Don’t Worry About the Doors I Slam, They’ve Always Been Closed

you hands fit me like a glove

my hands aren’t warm enough
your fists are tough

my hands are rough

and I hope the time that past was

more than enough
because I’m knocking on this door

to say I’m here

I’m here to call your bluff

the puff puff no pass

well it’s greener on the other side, but who cares about grass?
just stop breaking the emergency glass.

like feeling is a class

sad’s not a grade and broken isn’t a pass

 

I’m afraid who I’ve given too little will eventually want more

And look at me like they’re a thing I’m supposed to adore

 

I’ve never been mine

How am I supposed to be yours?

 

This year I’ve broken a few handles trying to close all the backdoors

(because it doesn’t rain often, but they say when it does it really pours)

 

Last year I was broke

but I paid for tickets

because I thought it’d made me happy to see this show

love was a lie some are only able to tell me slow

so I believed it even when I saw it come and I saw it go

touch and go touch and go

going with the flow
in the valley of know and don’t know
we drop our hearts and we let them blow

turn around fast no need for a cast

 

crushes are crushes like that
grind it to little bits

till we know there’s no way this still fits
crush those till they’re grains

you can push these in our veins

or flush them down your kitchen drains
whatever, I see you and I won’t stop you

In fact I like to watch you

spike your heart with mine

you tried so hard to make it seem like that’s the

only way to make it last
all the while I’m helpless but I’m helping you

and I’ll stay and

do your chores

just to hear you slamming all the damn doors
in my FACE

you slam them in my face you

lie about your vices you even lie about your taste

you’re never hungover but you’re never sober

how do you escape the weight
here i wonder, here i wonder

who’s the gatherer? and who’s the hunter?

who’s got money? who’s got time?

 

So start your fake speech about provision and

I’ll give you my falsest listen

like i don’t know your favorite game’s gonna end with division

Send your faxes I’ll do your taxes

just to see if you’ve got anything to give

and if you don’t then

I guess I’ll forgive

 

The times you didn’t give me my due

When I knew a hard-earned promise from you

and I had faith in you, too

I held onto those things you said

It’s a cliché but they really were what got me out of bed

 

It felt like they could lift me up from the here I so hated get me over there

(where I thought I wanted to be)

(I didn’t know you’d be worse to me than me)

(I didn’t know you just like to seem like you’ve got an eternal care)

(I didn’t know you liked to dress up

every winter as a sweet-body warmth fair)
Was warm just a figure of speech?

Because it sure took a turn

and I felt you let go and I felt me burn
And in reality you

know nothing about the gentleness of warmth nor its light

you only know the friction

and pretense of passive teary-eyed fight
(when you wish it you scream good night)
And our dreams are mistaken realities outside the glass

I’ve been tapping on to check if the world’s really out there, or in here

 

Can all this disappear just please let me close my eyes and have you and this disappear

I wish these people really were as small as they appear
I guess way up high,

when we shared a rooftop treehouse,

the world really could’ve

disappeared.

And that seemed to be what it did.

By Dania 

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