Making Memories

I walk a hundred steps a second. And only some left steps feel right. How you live knowing where each breath goes is beyond me. You know I was never good with words.

I look for you in the pauses, in the crevices of my dreams but I find only gaping holes, some insect bites, some already filled.

The bitten leaves I stared at for hours were not ours. Our hearts are whole and full of fresh blood. And beat thickly no matter what the day was like. But I was never good with words. And I cannot say. It wasn't us. Neither you nor I. Our hearts were not to fathom why.

And I wondered why I smiled or cried and I looked at leaves and wondered why. The knowing smiles were lost on me. It was you I knew then and know it now. I cannot love as you do. I cannot hold on tighter than you. In front of yours my love feels small. And she sits by the window and pouts. 

I have stamped my foot, I have laughed, I have smiled and I have wished and wished and wished I was another, almost anyone else would do. 

Tomorrow is tomorrow and tomorrow is some other day I have no need to concern myself with. Mine may cloud over or shine in the blinding light of bikes on nights like these. But it is yours I wish was ours  for I can see the fireworks that'll dazzle onlookers and foolish strangers who have wasted lives wondering what love is.

Do not waste yourself on me. I am a bunch of lies that made itself up in your head. That is all I am and all I can ever be.

Maybe one day you will believe me. Maybe one day I will really be the dream you think I am. I was real. But I became illusory in your fingers. Dont ask me how or when or why. I do not know. I do not hope to understand. I am less than illusory now. I am the lines I traced on your palm. I am the wish I blew off your cheek. But I am there. I am more real to you than I am to myself right now.

And that's all, I cannot continue. The words I frame are too vague and blurred just as mine always were. Maybe that would make for a memory.