Attachment

Everyone wants to be the hero of their own story
But that means you have to be in the villain in somebody elses
Somebody else once told me that "I love you" loses its meaning the more times it's said
And that if drag hatred through Christian language long enough it sounds just like concern
I felt concern for myself when wished that I could have lovingly hugged my hands around his throat in retrospect
Because now my "I love yous" are as rare as gold
And consequently my good friends are as rare as an ice cube in hell
Evaporating as soon as it gets close enough to mean something
It meant something when you held my hand and promised he you would never let go
But it would just be my luck that I was foolish enough to know that the best kept promises
Are best kept in your head
Never break your promises because a broken promise today
Means an broken heart for someone else tomorrow
Broken hearts ticking like clocks that didn't know they were broken
Working on their own time
Either too late or too early but never punctual        
But always punctuated by that nighttime beating that reminds
You of the smell of a sweet memory turned sour
Until the daylight peeks in to freeze the gears of
the nostalgia, paranoia, melancholia
and jumpstart
the confidence in the clairvoyance to foresee familiar incidents
This life is so predictable
The same story told by different actors
All the people you love are actors
Some play their parts so well
That you feel like the sum of their expectations
Weighed on the scale of your own
You should never want to own someone
People are to be enjoyed not possessed
But knowing that is not enough to stop the tugging in your heart
When someone you prioritize makes you an option
My only option was to turn you into a door
And close you because as one door closes
another opens
and that's so cliche
But all cliches have a grain of truth
Taken with a grain of salt
And a shredded self confidence as you view the cast list
You can never decide the role you play in someone's life
The best friend, the lover, the stranger waiting to become a friend
The old coffee table you talk over but never talk to
Talk to the ones you love
Let them know you love them
Even if you have to tattoo the words on your back as you walk in opposite directions
And that's okay
You have to know that they know that you tried
And you'll try to remember
Even when you get so angry that you want to forget
You'll look back on the good times and remember
You'll look back on the bad times and realize that it was worth it
The pain was worth the moving on into change
It's natural, the way we dig our hands into the sand on the beach
And watch it sift from our fingers
That rough feeling of not holding on too tight
So unnatural but it feels so true
And the truth is that they will want to forget
And you will too when the indignation forms a lump in you throat
At the reflex of saying their name
But you can only sing it out like a funeral song
As you bury the casket of your attachment
That you can never forget, like a time capsule
You'll dig it up when you're ready.
But please, don't forget
Don't forget
Please, don't forget
We are growing in opposite directions
That happens sometimes
But growth is good
It's a rite of passage