We are always trying to save face.
What are we trying to save
But our personas, our disguises, the cheap characters we think we’re supposed to be?
Why not let the entire world
Peek behind our well-rehearsed veil of perfectly timed lines
And see the beautiful, writhing mess
We always try to keep inside.
What if we unleashed that bruised mess
And let it dance on our skin
For the entire world to see,
For our own hearts to see.
What if we sent that wild, frustrating rawness into the pulsating center of the cosmos and made art out of it, truth out of it, teary-eyed lip smackin’ hot, simmering love out of it?
What if all the bounding, aching chaos within us
Is the only thing that’s real?
Because it is.
It’s what makes us
Fragile and gorgeous and