Drawing by Cam Novak (Pencil, watercolour)
Hold on tight to those memories.
Those sights, sounds and open wounds.
Create a picture from the frame and feel the story no mater how wrong it is.
The story ends when I stop writing about it.
I have this problem you know? I see the words.
They seem to pile up needing to be shoved between tears and an awkward, forced smile.
Dig deep. Dig the space you can't conquer and rest in the soil.
Growth is needed.
Ending the search to salvage the soul.
I wish you would sink your smile into my lips one more time.
It would rip my face open,
just the way it needs to be.
No, I don't know the title of this song but I do know the words.
I've been singing it since I saw your mouth and felt your eyes.
Connecting the dots only to see I can't draw a straight line.
I've seen more without you than on the peaks of your eye lashes.
I used to notice the sky,
I thought I knew it,
but now I am in it.
To push back against the wall, that was all I was hopping for.
Now I see the wall was never there, and the push was a pull.
The pull of the moon to the ocean,
the pull of a force I never will understand.
It should be this way.
I guess that's how it ends.