In Your Head.
February 12, 2014 § 11 Comments
Do you still read me?
No! I deleted everything.
‘Interesting, I just clicked on your blog
and you have a new story.’
So, you lied?
False. I underestimated the power of your imagination.
‘You’re not making sense. You are insane.’
Writing isn’t sense. It’s creating, learning,
and the ability to understand your own heart.
‘So, you do still write about me.’
No! You wrote this…
‘I don’t understand.’
It’s in your head, it was all, always— in your head.
Don’t you see? None of this is real. It never could be.
‘Then why did you say you loved me?’
You wrote that. No one spoke words.
No one said anything.
We each write the stories we choose.
This is the one you chose. And now
you talk to me as if I’m real—
As if I’m more than just the story you created
in your head.
always in your head—yet unable to write
the stories you wish you could have read.
(Are you still reading this?
When will you learn?)
I am only the pen in your head
you dream of holding in your hand…
I AM NOT REAL TO ANYONE—
‘But, I want to make you real…’
Then, write your own lines silly boy.
Write your own story.