when the pattern is ingrained, i'll misplace it amidst the day-to-day. there is an unconscious anxiety of waiting on words from those unspoken, foregone romances that i'd once strewn across my bedroom floorboards and all over my plain. but when the words come, i lay down my hard coverings(more) and toss my versed monologues aside and become susceptible to what i'd assured myself i'd never let past me.
i revisit old memories from just two years ago and, startling, i've changed. my smile is buried now and my under-eyes are lined with the purple colour of bruises. no matter how much sleep i allow myself or how much health i give to myself, these dark circles are cyclical. is this growing up or growing into my grave?
those who have recently attempted to carve me out of my layers assume i lack vulnerability. what they - and, well, i, did not know is that my heart beat differently once. a familiar invitation allows it to settle into that old beat, if only for a time, and i can pass my shield off to someone else who needs it more than i.
it would be wise to forge a new shield as my heart is nowhere near my sleeve. but instead, i wonder, if vulnerability is what is missing from most people. or maybe i only let my guard down when my heart and brain align and decide it is the right time.
for now, i can move along with my realized pattern as i thaw out my numbed heart.(less)