Carry-On Runways

The plane boarded and she was lost. It didn't have to take off. She was already gone. There's no going back to before the end.

I couldn't take her home. And I couldn't take her away with me. Because I'm always going nowhere. Always looking for a place that just isn't there.

No shortcuts to the keyboard. Stabbing adjectives until they bleed. Living life inside my head. It's doubly confusing when it's real.

No hops combusting against innocent brain cells. To turn our natural enemies into allies for this battle. Just the arbitration in her stare as she swallowed her departure.

It's not letting go. It's acceptance.

pulling up the tracks only to watch the train still barrelling over the empty spaces.

It's not a metaphor when I say that I've set the alarm. And I expect it will wake me up at the designated time.

It's just an acknowledgement of the fact that life make us. Not the other way around.

There are not enough pillows in the world to make that bed soft again.

So many words. And for what. To be ignored again.

So many wrinkles in those sheets. For what.

As many times as I shed this skin, still it grows back.. Thicker than ever.

Long ago they would've broken me. But these days they scarcely make a dent.

I long for the angles so sharp. The ladders so unfair. One step at a time. Until we fall again.

I need to feel again, but I can't find any reason to in the people I have left.

I almost miss. Almost miss sometimes how well it hurt to feel them.

What's a cloud without rain. What's a sun without its set.

Too easy. Too reliable.


There's always that moment when the stairway begins to move. The engines begin to whirl and we must acknowledge our powerlessness.

There's not tragedy in wishing you could've loved them better.

Only in knowing you never tried.
I can't be like that.