A Missing Melody

"No you, you just want to believe the truth is we're fine, Just want to have a good time, have a good time tonight." -Headlights

Sometimes, people become shackled by what they believe. You want to have morals and live a Christian life, but then you're conservative and awkward and scared. You want to live a life of honesty and ultimate truth, but then you're overbearing and overwhelming. And when things don't work out, you're locked into a conundrum: do you continue to pursue what you believe to be the truth, or do you hide everything you feel deep inside, and let someone else's truth become the reality? I don't like to deny the most real feeling I have ever felt. Last night sounded empty. Felt quiet. Tasted like loneliness. Smelled like sleep. I'm trapped in these blue sheets, twisting and turning, sleeping (or not) on piercings, ripping little tears in the skin that hasn't yet completely healed. We're stuck in the molds of our body shapes. Our heads drown in the pillows as we struggle to break free. We twist, and turn, and roll, and grip, and grind, and groan (electric shocks on aching bones). We bend the bars of the bed a little bit. We stare into windows silently on a grumbling subway express; we stare at each other's reflection. Last night forgot the words. Last night lost two hours of conversation. Last night, listless without laughter, and tiny sighs. Last night, chained back to routine after a bout of rebellion. Last night, we were shackled to nothing. We were free of each other. I was trapped in remembering (you like a deer in the) Headlights.

"The soundtrack to our meeting fills the awkward spaces between our strained breathing. Here's what I intended. Here is the truth." -The Honorary Title