if our bodies are locks, then words are keys to all the little truths that
we keep, hidden behind the eyes and smiles of seven billion trembling heartbeats. they
lonely, but they can’t tell you how they feel; they have to spell it out: F-O-R-G-O-T-T-E-N.
we are what we
write: L-O-N-E-L-Y. That’s a six letter word for isolated good-byes, lasting forever
until, in dark rooms, people who have known each other for years can tell you
the eye color of the person they’re standing next to. we can’t tell you how they feel, about the
hollowness haunting their dreams when they’re alone in bed at night. they have to show you.
and, they will: on
the walls, there are poems written with broken promises, carelessly mended by generations of
anger, about the shadow boys and girls who became fed up with simply being. They wanted to
existing, so they wrote words on the rooftops of every building they came across: C-H-A-N-G-E
and C-H-O-I-C-E-S. words gave them choices they never thought they had and if
we never realized it before, we do now. because of the words of the shadow boys and girls, we
can tell you the eye color of the person we’re standing next to. we understand those little truths. we
if we are lonely, we write until the hollowness and the anger stop existing, and we can feel human again.
i write because i'm
lonely. i write because i want