That I break like eye contact in staring contests because I’m afraid of getting lost in your eyes without breadcrumbs…” “I’m sorry that even the most honest choose to hide behind the guise of a lie”Īnd “I’m sorry that my promises are fragile figurines Or “I’m sorry that somebody showed you the darkest side of menĪnd not the best that we have to give you.”Īn “I’m sorry that my touch might remind you of hisĪnd that he chained himself to your memories, and even the best of them can hurt” The sound reverberated off eardrums and hollow wallsīecause sometimes, silence is the loudest sound you can make.Īnd I meant it with every fibre of my existenceĪn “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you that night” Interspersed through the silence of her gaze She saves them, trying to refill the trust fundĪnd it hurt more than anything she could ever say. Saving her tears in the piggy bank under her eyesĪlready filled to capacity with every regret she ever had Her lips quivered like she was facing her darkest fearsĪnd I swear…I swear I could hear her heartįighting against the confines of her ribcageĮach bruise from every leap of faith into unknown armsĮvery ‘I love you’ and ‘forever and always’ sugar coating ulterior motives The words I had carefully laced in my apology had barely left my lips So currently, I’m trying to put your features into poetry. See, I could never treat your visage like Elizabeth’s See, a long time ago I realized that Grandma got it rightīut willing to migrate for your future generations like monarch butterflies. Just to give me things I wanted but didn’t need. So I’m hoping everything you are is hereditary.īut taught to be as much since I was raised by a queen. Sometimes forgetting my double helix inheritance when it gets lost in translationĪnd take for granted the fact I have an empire in my bloodline With every detail planned in her chromosomes My memory fails to keep track of our history the way parliament wouldīut it’s etched in the genetic structures she built in meĬonstructed to the letter in the blueprints When I say I’d treat my wife like royalty…because she would be.īecause by logic I’m a prince if I was raised by a queen. No regal bearing…and not charming in the least No paparazzi magnet in matrimony with the tabloids and headlines Or you’ll find out that I’m not really alright.
My closet is a graveyard for human skeletons Like I’m learning to swallow swords in reverse.īecause the one in my chest always seems to get broken.Īnd nightmares always creep into my bed of nails. Raised by experience to breathe fire on stageĪnd my words are carving grooves into my windpipe Sigfried and Roy if you ever catch me lyingīecause I remind you of your primal instincts.Īnd not be scared or else people would judge you. So I can spill my guts to you with honour.Īfraid of commitment so there’s no strings attached. Trying to juggle my secrets with my conscience. My insides have become trained contortionists I’m putting all of my mistakes on display for you.Īnd the stitches are tattooed into my fleshįrom every time I’ve tried to put myself back together.Īnd if feels like I’ve done it wrong this time… Of the bearded lady and the elephant man.
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