Did we have an understanding?

1.15.15

Maybe I don't understand.

Whenever I feel like the shards of our relationship have been picked up

re-buffed, re-surfaced and finally put back to compliment each other's contours,

I realize at the other end that the entire picture remains cracked and disformed.

Our relationship is of the utmost expressionist art,

even though it lacks all but expression,

and whenever your eyes lie and make me believe our broken pieces

do make up a total, somehow, in some way, and in some time,

I realize all we ever really were is in itself just totaled.

The stars may tell us otherwise,

But we were not meant to be.

In the end, in the beginning, from the first blush to the last kiss,

We both knew that the sharp parts of our broken pieces
 
clashed with those that were blunt,

And the numerous times we tried to fit these pieces together,

neither of us could find the words to end the pain.

To end the hurt.

To stop the silence.

To tell the noise to go.

Silence ensued by fear.

Nervousness.

Capricousness.

You give me problems. I killed you with my kisses and you kissed me with your kills.

The rides home, songs over city lights, touches under the moon were all magic

under the spell of mixed feelings.

The drinks didn't help us. Neither did the coffee.  Nor the cigarettes.

We did the damage to each other. Shards spread far across the floor,

falling into cracks. And these cracks lead me to you and you to me.

In the end, I think it comes down to this: even if it lacks reason in itself,

and it may seem a poor excuse for both our faults and misconceptions,

We are too young to be dealing with people who treat us like shit.