Comforting Lies

Don't paint me a pretty picture and then look me in my eyes and tell me that you love me, I'm not a stranger to your stories don't comfort me with your lies.

Loves a complicated word especially when it's just thrown around, it's not genuine anymore, when love has become a word used to seduce her and use her as a benefit to yourself, it should come as no surprise why I've locked up my love and stored it on the shelf.

I'm a love letter and bike ride kind of girl living in a cheap wine and cigarette smoke kind of world. Hopelessly romantic and too empathetic to not give a damn, I've been hurt so much it's amazing I remember who I am.

I'll never forget her; I know she's still alive although she's also scared. She's hidden her light to keep the shadows away, she hides behind her coldness, thinking it's the safest place for her to stay. Being too open and vulnerable has been disastrous in the past, causing her to second guess every nice comment because, were they being genuine? If so, how long could she expect this one to last.

She keeps her wall high, because if you want to reach her bad enough, you'll master the climb. She doesn't want to waste what's left of herself on another "I'm just not ready for this" because she has already been let down enough there just isn't enough time.

So, until then she'll keep her mind focused and her emotions in check, faking with the rest of the world can be exhausting but the task of being herself in a world much to cruel for her weightless spirit, seems way to daunting.

Shes not made of porcelain but knows all the ways in which her heart can shatter, she could spend time convincing everyone she isn't hard to love, and her personality is great, but would it even matter? If you care enough to know then, I suppose you don't mind the wait?