(Not) Open to interpretation

(Not) Open to interpretation 

On my 18th birthday when I awoke

My teeth crooked with expectations

I did not know how kisses worked

Let alone love. 

I spoke to clouds still

And threw words like soulmate

Around till they cringed themselves

Grey, unbound, laughing uncontrollably.

Before I knew it I was 20 already

Stark in the middle of repressed teenage

I did not know how words worked

Let alone love.

I spoke to my mother still

And she pulled the covers over me

Every night and lied that she was proud

As she watched me let her daughter down.

Turning 22 was a real drag and I

Crawled into golden cages and padlocked them.

I did not know how alcohol worked

Let alone love.

I spoke to shadows still 

Every sin and sinner made sense

Who the fuck did I think I was, an artist?

Taking liberties that I would never fully earn.

24 years into this mess I am, cleaning up after 

Myself, stacking my shoes in orderly rows.

I know how promises work, maybe even

A little about love.

I speak to myself still

Walk barefoot on beaches with majestic

Crabs clawing at my toes, and it does not

Hurt, I think I might have almost turned brave.