I dont think I need to say what inspired this after my last entry. It was written quickly, very rough.


Sometimes

Sometimes it comes down to crying
Until the thickest, darkest makeup
Has been turned into grayish smears
In strange blotchy shapes under your eyes.
Then it’s time to take that shuddering,
Exhausted breath, make a cup of tea,
And move on. Because sometimes,
All you can do is say I’m sorry;
I was wrong in the strongest voice you can manage,
And then again, silently, inside,
To yourself. (That part always has to come next.)
Sometimes, fixing it is about remembering to breathe
Until it blows over. About meaning when you say
It wont happen again.
Sometimes, when there is no blowout,
No yelling- just concern and uncomfortable
Confessions, sometimes that’s when it’s the hardest.
When you understand the other side more than your own,
When there is no argument on your tongue,
When it’s about realizations and mistakes-
Those are the talks you remember most,
And those are the times that teach you that
Sometimes the hardest parts of growing up
Happen in the quietest ways.