Lines...

It haunts me, the inconsistency of the human being, not to say I'm not...I breathe the same air you breathe. Maybe were all just a little lost, and we think we find a way when we find an x that marks the spot but it's not ours. I drew a line in the sand years ago but I drew it to close to the shore and the waves washed it away so I can never tell where it is, where it was...if you're crossing it or not, maybe that's why were lost. Cant we just draw another line? Or does the first line just resurface on our bodies leaving us scarred knowing that if we can never find that line we can never find ourselves, so we just keep looking. 

Like searching for car keys we cant find in time, like searching for the moon, like searching for a spoon when all we have are forks or searching for a fork when all we have are spoons...I hate that. We all lost our line in the sand, we don't know who to let in, who we feel comfortable enough with to cross into ourselves so we put our hearts on shelves, and we wonder why our hearts have shelf lives when we give them away so blind, they expire in no time. 

We all just want to fall in love right? Play rock, paper, scissors with our hearts...but the paper is not enough, the rock will surely crush me and the scissors will likely cut the heart strings that conduct the puppet show of my soul. But maybe if you can cut the strings just right. catch it while its falling, its falling for you...its falling because you cut it off...so just catch it. Put it in a vase, soil it with your affections and simply let it bloom and if you can just stay there, we can pretend there is no invisible line to cross, no walls to break down. Just stay there, don't run, like a bullet from a gun you're just my hearts evidence now. Stick around we can make things burn down inside of us, the old excuses we use as a crutch...we can watch them burn and melt into each other...it can be true, me and you can make dinner reservations on the sun for two....

But...we are so good at rationalizing something beautiful into something we can just bury in our backyards. I'll be six feet under your feet, with a tombstone that says potential for something perfect. Once in awhile we will remember, what it was, what it is...what it could, should and would. Maybe one day you'll want to dig out the shovel and bring me back to light but you drew a line around my grave years ago...and now you cant find it.