I’ll be honest.
The silence is due on my behalf. If it were up to me, the gray space between us would always be buzzling and lighting up with my words and devoutions, even if the traffic is one way. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t care if no one else saw a car come down our highway into my city limits. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have barricaded the road and made my part of the highway a dam, only to ease the pressure when the entire construct is about to bow over in a disgusting display.
But I don’t want “me” to be strung to the will and perceptions of others, sticking to their goop gray expectations of relationships -as if they know the Empirical solution for Love to come to fruition. So let me tell you this, habibi: You’re my motivation to start snipping the strings on my joints.
So if it were -and is- up to ME, I want to open up the floodgates and never tamper with the flow again. I don’t want to suffocate my own vocals -expressions- out of some transplanted, alien, unsuitable belief but rather a product of my own organics, my own warmth. To stay silent in front of you is more painful, no matter how foolish, crazed, and obsessed I may seem.
(Honestly, honestly, honestly, I didn’t keep track of my head this time around in the tempest. On an additional note, I can’t reiterate this enough: I feel ashamed that I let my egocentric patterns get the best of me, especially when part of me now lives in tandem.)
