the first little piggy had a bridge made of hay

The eyes are my window to my heart

They plainly describe what I don't want you to see

I've always been shit at hiding myself

So the betrayal in my eyes will always be clear.

I cannot control what my face does when you shove excuses into my heart.

The taste is putrid,

And that's not just because you vomited them up in the moment.

They're dry.

Unfeeling.

Hm, reminds me of someone.

Empathy is the thing that helps us be vulnerable

But it only works in numbers

A vaccine to loneliness with too many conditions to count

Vulnerability shows trust which is only earnt when..when..

It's not my fault our fucking bridge was soaked with petroleum.

The rain had only just calmed, but rain is always the prerequisite to a storm.

So the lightning was a given to the situation.

It was only natural that our 'bond' forged in hay bales went up instantly.

And so another layer of blue flame came and cocooned my heart

I know that'll continue 'til I'm old and tired in these halls

But when I leave, nothing will ever make me think of you

And you'll have to deal with that, alone.

~