Stories and Starlight

hello . it's been awkward. six hours and thousands of miles but not a word was said to  bridge the gap, only a sprinkling of laughter: crumbly plastery filling,  forced lightness, because we can't seem to accept the darkness:  that cramped pretense we put up instead, a poor protection for what should be spoken, but hangs out to dry on the fine line of silence,  waiting, perhaps, for when we turn and (actually) say  hello. it's been tiring. three years and thousands of conversations but hardly a word was said to  bridge the gap, only a sprinkling of outings: flimsy sugary filling, like melting ice cream, because we can't seem to have a full meal, that duty called "quality time" by convention ,  hiding the longing for something substantial but giving in to habit just one more time, waiting, perhaps, for when we try to (really) say hello. it's been difficult. one childhood and thousands of memories but not a word I've said to bridge the gap, only a scrapb...

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Dear me, When you’re tired, turn your thoughts into poetry. When you’re angry, rearrange your armored walls until they open again. When you’re hurt, hurry to pour it out on the blank pages of a book. When you’re dying for things to be different, dare yourself - and find a way to change it. Don’t let your ugly feelings stay that way. Don’t leave them locked away. Let them out, but make them beautiful.