I am in such an odd place in my life as of now. I feel the lingering possibility of happiness right before my palms, but I want to clench my hands without breaking my fingers. I wrote this poem knowing I have broken more than my fingers for someone before because I felt like the edge of my palms held more than I wanted. I was so happy at one point in my life until the gradual chafe of my life progressed between me and this person. I think it became severe for the both of us; time showed us the future and one of us didn't see the other one through it. But they looked directly at the light, while I was waiting to see the light but I just couldn't. We had dissimilarities and although I urged myself to continue, I felt held back and essentially tied to my past with this person. They tried to get rid of me, let me tell you: they painted over me with the thickest layer hoping to initiate a new phase in their life. Recently, I've learned to put up with the people that exist only for themselves; the people that live on a line of time and those who will confess to you the densest of truths. If someone loves you, they will make room for you. You shouldn't have to fight for a spot.
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