satsujin

radio edit

too much credit given to the source of the frequency, not enough given to risidual, innocent bystanders. moved by the sound of my own heart (breaking). stubborn pride doing what it can, but high-pitched warnings were never its forte, always the adagio (slow and undetected, mournful and marred with accidents/tals ) it's the live and learn tune, one that every girl whistles quietly on the steady flow of rock solid breath. where we pretend that nothing moved us at all. that it was all okay. that we never meant to live so freely, and whistling the song at all is a luxury, a defense mechanism inherently built into our hearts at birth. there is no teaching it. we already know it. romantics are afflicted by it, often unwillingly. crescendos that crash on every curve and resound new waves, new moments that we define as memory. each impact that creates new crevices in the ever widening canyons of an untrusting, shattering heart. sadly, it's synonymous with voluntary suicide. we never knew it broke us until it was done.

and over.