We’re all broken people. Some more than others, though. We can’t eat for fear of spilling our guts out, we can’t sleep because there are graveyards under our beds, we can’t enjoy the sun because it reflects the layers of darkness we fight so hard to conceal.
We cannot admit the truth. That somewhere under the pile of secrets and lies that is us, is a hollow, lonely space that is begging to be filled. That even when we pray, we let our voices out and keep our words in, because unanswered prayers are God’s way of loving us, in spite of our filth and guilt.
The love we have so righteously lost. We cling to shreds of electric dreams and caviar wishes, tapping our feet in the cadences of a time so gone, yesterday becomes tomorrow and the days of the future, become past. That when we once loved, we found our freedom in the chains of hope. Hope that opened our hearts and let the galaxy into our souls. Souls that sunk into voids where nothing meant everything.
Everything, we see differently. Every night, we lie beneath the stars and roar with the waves. When dawn touches our eyelids, we know we cannot be mended again. This is us. We continue on our broken ways.