Bricks.

I've lost the feeling of weightlessness.

I, am heavy.

I do not float beautifully on the waters surface any longer. I have sunk to the bottom, and I stay there. Stuck.

Heavy.



I let my worries go, a long time ago. I threw caution to the wind, and the wind cleverly kept it away. I was fooled by you. I bought into your gimmick.

We spent hours laughing, and building. You smeared mortar on my cheek and laughed like an angel. I stacked bricks, and watched you work. We constructed a mis-match home for our hearts to stay in, together. And I thought I'd call it home.

But your empty chest grew lonely. And your lonely greed became bitter. And the bitter you began to lie. I didn't like him.

I watched him work.

He tore apart that quaint brick house, and stole back the heart he thought was his.


They find me now, those bricks. They find me on sidewalks, and in movie theaters, at school, and in the deserted parking lots. I can't leave them behind, those pieces of my beautiful house; so I carry them.

They make me heavy.

They make me heavy, but I carry them.

They make me heavy, and carrying them makes me tired. And I grow weary of seeing this tired me in the mirror. I don't like her.

I watch her work.
I watch her wither.

Bricks.