build me the moon

"build me the moon"
charlotte sometimes

give me a moment
give me a cloak
tell me anything
as long as its
tru

give me heartache
that's what you do
tell me you want me
i'm sick of being used

i send my heart
to you
but you never care
you never do

so build me your bridges
build me the moon
tell me you love me
tell me you love me soon

you didn't know
that i cried
in my room
every night

maybe it's not
cause of you
but it'd be easier
if you needed me too

i send my heart
to you
but you never care
you never do

so build me your bridges
build me the moon
tell me you love me
tell me you love me, soon

i can not stop
i can not smile

i know we were'nt meant to be
but i want you here
with me

so build me your bridges
build me the moon
tell me you love me
tell me you love me
tell me you'll love me soon



i stumbled upon this song last night, and i was so moved by it that i bought it off of itunes, right then and there. she's right on key, as if she stole the words from my mouth.

what's funny is, i've been on both sides of this song. i've been sung to, and sung it myself. what moves us so completely by someone else that it instills an energy that can't be forgotton? i have wished so many times that i could wash my hands of it, of the capability to be hurt and vulnerable, not necissarily in that order...

i am a broken soul. i'm not saying i'm special, because i personally believe almost everyone is. but i've been burned so much. let myself be burned, therefore assuming the responsibilty of the first aid. and i can tell you, i am no nurse. i think my form of doctoring is more or less of a masochistic genre. whatever hurts me more will make that other hurt seem like nothing. push it away. bottle it up. smile. tell people what they want to hear. avoid. avoid. avoid. don't give in to the number pad on your phone. drink. sleep, to dream.

punishment. it's all punishment, reflecting the hurt back on me. how emo of me, i know. but after awhile, it goes away, and all i'm left with is a couple of pictures and two or three notes scrawled on computer paper, mostly of lies. that's what it comes down to with me. memories, fading fast and hard. forced to fade by everything i have.

since i was a little girl, i have believed in the promise of love. even now, even through my bitter lips and scathing words, i can sit here and tell you i believe in it. in loving someone else til you wake up craving them. in allowing truth to seep through the cracks, of things you've never uttered to anyone else in the world, and not be afraid you'll lose them to it. i believe that someones out there who knows just what i need and manifests it, wether it be candles by winelight, or a kiss on the back of my neck.

my optimism eludes me at most times in my life. i like it, because when i feel it i can smile, and feel like everything is going to happen just the way it was meant to. heartache and happiness alike. i will wake up one day to someone who wrote me a note on the pillow next to me just to feel my smile when i read it. hows that for optimism? don't let the appearance fool you. forget diamonds and fancy vacations. i'm a softie for the stupid shit; notes and smiling through silence, and everything else you can file under 'romantical'.

it's out there. it has to be.

k.