naiveté

i was so naive.

i was so naive to wait for that rollercoaster when i knew i was too short to ride.

like that rollercoaster would call me at 2am tonight, hah.

i was naive to think that talking about bricks thrown and broken windows

would bring you to my doorstep

as if you were a cat who heard the shaking of food.

no amount of singing or dancing or laughing i can do with you will take me back to when we had what we had.

i was naive to think it would.

the house we built had printer paper foundation,

if you step wrongly the floor would fall

and you would fall through.

i was so naive to think i could lay stone myself.

i was so naive to think that the house would still be there to live in.

it isn’t.

i must have demolished it, i don’t remember seeing you with a hammer and chainsaw.

that was me.

i was naive to think that this would be anything but an over dramatic coping mechanism

this won’t be looked back on as a heart pouring onto flower petals,

this will be looked back on as the weird kid in the corner of the house party in all black with their hood up over their face and a budweiser in their hand not talking to anyone not even the people that brought them there.

i’m so naive to think this will be looked back on.

i’m so naive to think i will be looked back on.

as you like to remind me,

no one care about me as much as i think,

so this will turn to ash,

be swept to the wind,

and live in the sea.