What would be real.?.

If you made your way into my words. What do you believe they’d say? Would I lie to myself and keep the truth under my tongue? Telling pieces of a use I found along the way. Like a puzzle of depths that somehow can’t be put together. If we never make it to the other side. Somehow parting prior to the good stuff. Would you believe what was left in my mind?  Waiting on a miracle so far fetched life seems like a dream. Lost within syllables that confronts a story told. As emotion becomes stagnant and unable to be revived. If my sighs were to ever be so bold. Could you reason with the purpose in between the lines? Seeing through the twisted void that’s dug a hole in my chest. Hidden from anyone else to fall in. Could you hear the way no truly means yes? If I lied repeatedly of how I felt. Attempting to protect myself from the friend I thought I had. Do you know me will enough to realize I’ve given up? Or is it all bullshit so I don’t ever havta face what makes me sad? If you knew it was you that sat upon my tongue. Living as a memory in which secrets I kept. To have you as close to me as I possibly can. Clinging to excursions from a far so I can breathe. Never to be heard for no one needs to know. If alone was better than luv’n someone else. As my silence soothes the feel of drifting along. As if my heart for you didn’t melt. If I said I’ve figured out all I ever needed was me. And that I’m not living in a delusion that rectifies me never to get hurt. Would you remain hush if you ever missed who I was? If we crossed a line somewhere that had no point of return. Just to go back to a life without the thrill. Before the written honesty ever found a voice. Sadly forgotten as a moment shared that I’d keep off my lips. Telling it as a thing of the past that I avoid. Would my words strike a nerve? As you’d hear it in another way. In a raw rare form of denial running from luv. Or is the belief of what it is to become is a unwanted phase? Losing focus and giving attention to another somewhere in time. As fragments left as clues in the direction of the heart are scattered about. Put on display for eyes to figure out who’s who. All without ever making a single sound. If you read a diddle that didn’t resemble me. Knowing what the contents of my chest is capable of. As you listen to me speak in your head of a version rearranged just right. So perfect no one would ever think I’d miss being in luv. Or is the thought of the wonder all this is? To create a scenario so vivid words come to life. Provoking the imagination to ponder of what’s really real. If I just jotted down the results of a few things I keep inside…