This uneven pulse dances inside my chest:
A skipping stone, only it's on fire.
It sparkles, and glows brilliantly.
Flames ablaze, darting across the water
Before fading into oblivion with a crackle and a hiss.
Shooting glances, stars and highways.
Endangering the thoughtfulness of my isolated mind.
I thank you for your awful silence.
I won't say a word, not a single sentance.
I sit here feeling rejected, “passive”.
Something I realize:
it's never perfect; if it's perfect it's not worth it.