Record Playing Carousel

I feel like the record player in my head breaks any meaningful thing that gets placed onto it

Whether seconds later, or months later

That song…those words…play over and over and over and over

And I hate these goddamn songs

They don’t keep me up with a smile, but with a knife to the stomach and a tight grip to the heart

I hardly let myself close my eyes when I drink because I feel like I’m on a carousel and only see your face in the crowd

And sometimes there are none

And I can’t tell which scares me more

I’m scared that I’ll forever have trouble letting go

And I’m scared that I won’t know who I want to show up to help me off or jump on

~Megan

Who? (Scattered)

Follow your heart

Not the person who walks out on you

And shame on you if you think that they own a part of you

And I’m tired of smelling like cigarettes and whiskey

I know it’s all fun and games when you’re the one with nothing to lose

If I could go back and do things again, I wouldn’t

I learned what I should have accepted while I was with him and when he was long gone when he got a hold of me again

And while those words are sour, I like a little flavor

And I wish that I could say that your lips were the sweetest thing that I ever tasted

But I feel like I took my one and only chance at that years ago

So I guess that I can’t say I didn’t warn the one sitting beside me in their own little head that they should proceed to intrigue with caution

He says he likes a thrill and a mystery, but people fail to realize that my story will forever be finished before you start it

~Megan