I've thought about writing. But, then I think my words do more harm then good. I leak revenge and at times I seem bitter when all I really am is sad.
And you see it.
The way vision feels when the windsheild wipers aren't working.
Is it something external making me appear blurry to you? Or are you so lazy- you fail to see I'm being hurt?
And you see it.
The way your eyes adjust to a darkened room. And the lights are turned off without a true warning.
But, I whispered it in your ear- do you pretend I didn't warn you?
And you see it.
In the candy wrappers tossed deeply into the garbage. In the way my back turns away from you.
But, I never write it. For fear of sounding too bitter. But, maybe I am.
Maybe sadness grew in me till it could grow no more.
Maybe life changed and I stood too still.
Maybe.
But, I think you know I see you watching.
And some say, Seeing is Believing.
But, do you?
Do you belive in me?
