i got figurative glasses

 everything is framed, and even though i can see everything better, i can mostly see my own hands a little more clearly. and tree branches. that's what's really getting me.

but my glasses unearth everything i am now and i didn't think all that fear lived in my bones, growing, feeding. fear that i'm going to snap under the fall's weight, fear i didn't deserve what i got, fear that i don't actually have the capacity to be a good person, fear my parents are on the stairs, it goes on. (i'm afraid of my bones not containing those sleepy sighs from that mouth)
so i go to my room. and it gets real when i take them off before bed. i'm alone, there's no music or humans to fog up my glasses, but i still take them off. because when i'm laying alone in bed, i'm not trying to see long distances anymore. it's just that moment, it's just me. well, in actuality, it's just you. you. all for you.  
.... but it's me.

because you don't know that you've lived here, in this room, on this bed, in this mind,  for as long as i have. that you are the old mascara tube i haven't thrown away and you're the stash of gum behind my basket and you're the implicitly bleeding pages of every piece of paper and you're the corner of my down pillow. you're the mirror hanging on my wall, but i keep thinking of the down pillow. you're mostly that; i like having you around when i shut my eyes.

not having your echoes,opinions,dreams,eyes,laughs,mind linked with mine already feels like pain, and i can't wait to wear leather and have an exposed brick wall and ride the subway as a necessity but some days you break that dream and do you know i would give it all away? 
don't you dare insist i keep it