Castles Made of Sand

I hear my train comin’ as the hands on the clock get close to holding each other. 12 marks the spot. Midnight to be exact. When the darkness reveals its self in the beauty of the stars, and still hides in the light. There are too many stars to count; I wonder is it possible to run out of wishes? Well — I empty my pockets out into the pond. The change I’d pay the price to see. Within the ripples, [stop the music]….I’m not quite finished dreaming.

Listening to the winds singing, imagine we were dancing with stars. We can be the first to create life on Mars, and instead of counting sheep to fall asleep we sit and watch the cow measuring the circumference of the Moon.

Tonight it’s blue with a purple-ish tint,
I figured it’s been walked on, one too many times…

We are one of a kind, a love many couple wish they could explain — even better comprehend. So we pretend that our love doesn’t really exist. Like this is all just some fairy tale, because even those endings aren’t always happy. Secretly we’re happy. Publicly we’re ignorant and bliss is our shadows. And even from 2,000 miles I can hear my train coming. Midnight is leaving.

Questioning my sadness, why is love so deceiving? All board the train, I step foot on; then transforms into paper planes, and floats me back down onto my window seal.

Still.
I sit still.

I left for you, and you never came to get me. You’re guilty of stealing smiles. My innocence is steel, you can never penetrate the real me….I guess I am the one that’s guilty. That seems to be all I ever hear, judgements.

You never came to get me.

I heard my train coming, and I tried to wait patiently for you…you were never really here? I pushed you so far I thought you’d bounce back, instead you stayed in the clear. Far away from what I needed, but close to everything I wanted.

Power trips on bleeding hearts and exposes vulnerability. Now I am up all night counting how many sheep can idealistically equal a cow.

Memories take vacations, and some never bother to reappear. They become residents in complacency, neighboring fear. I AM NOT SCARED ANY MORE – only scarred.

How long does it take bruises to heal on broken hearts? ….

I guess this piece is just a start. We can still be a collage instead of a picture; there’s no such thing as perfect art! We haven’t practiced much anyways, but we can start. Take the best of you and best of me, embrace what we’ve become, actors call this role play.

THIS REAL, I feel it — at least I felt it. I mean I thought I had before.

The Pain — You keep digging holes trying to tunnel into my heart, but you’ve barely scratched the surface. You’ve been here before.

I choose to ignore the thoughts of you that rise like smoke when the train approaches.

Love. This is the shit that every one longs for?
That they wait so long for?
That they bend their backs and run laps trying to chase it, go through hurdles, and take long jumps for…. sacrifice.

That must be nice.

Being able to love the one you longed for….

I hear my train a coming. I see deep feelings rocking relationships. I smell the exhaust from the complaints.

Crash landing.

The one in a million we all mourn for.

No Love Lost,
-Leighrick

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