It doesn't matter how deep or profound the phrase.
Words have hard edges that get smoother with use.
The corners get round and the bite they once had
Gets replaced by soft stones on soft flesh.
So we go further, harder, leaner with our words.
Whittle out the bone,(more) suck out the marrow,
A bold taste for tongues gone numb,
And an electric bolt through brains gone dumb.
When our walk is too close, our paths grow too narrow.
We speak in bland nothings; our intentions aren't heard.
So we struggle to say something novel and fresh,
But our metaphors suck and our syntax is bad.
Uncomfortable words that are clunky and loose,
Rattling like coins in canned communiques.
"I gave you my Nan's ring!"
"because you saw it in the movie last night" Alice retorted. She decided to probe further,"Why didn't you go to university?"
"So that we could be together".
Guilt washed down her face and in to her stomach. John first met Alice during her(more) summer break in University. She was at an amateur art exhibition where John was showcasing, and she connected with one of his sketches. It was the eyes in the drawing, they looked so longing and hopeless. Alice was caught in the staring contest with the crafted man when John introduced himself, "I drew that last night". Alice was shocked, ' how can something so vivid could be born spontaneously' she thought, 'I think I love him'.
That feeling sustained their dance for the following 6 months. The days were filled with more I love you's than honesty, and so it never grew, it was stillborn. Alice enjoyed the companionship during the otherwise empty summer, but when her second year began she lost a lot of her time to her education. John was set to go study in Paris that September, but he chose to stay with Alice. As she devoted herself to her studies he questioned her about her love, believing it must have been a lie. She felt guilty for how she treated him and became increasingly discontent.
"I can see you inspecting me again, questioning why I would to stay with you. There aren't any cracks in our love!" John cried.
"I am inspecting you" she admitted to the both of them, she shocked herself. There was a piercing silence. Her heart raced.
"I think the point isn't that there are cracks. I think it's that I am looking for them".
"Do you love me?"(less)
You crazy, crazy bitch. Yes, I mean it. Go and blame it all on your silver amalgam fillings, or the fact that your father was too stern, or that you're immature, like a little green apple. All of these reasons and more you can shovel on thick as mortar onto the bricks(more) in the wall of your own personal edifice, Your fortress, your facade. (less)
Do you mean it when you say it? When you write those dark words full of depressed thoughts. When you talk about humans as if they are parasitic scum. Do you honestly think that there is an unspoken hierarchy? Do you really hear things in your head?
(more) Do you mean it when you say you hate people? What about the words on your family, or friends? Are those stories true? What about when you say you love that person?