writing

my heart swells sometimes
when i get caught up in stories
and emotions
but then i remember that it's not me

and sometimes something as small
as remembering
can make me cry.

i have the right to dream anything i want
and i do
i dream about everything,
i've created the happiest endings ever known

but i don't know how to make them come true
not for myself
and not even in fantasies
i can't even write the stories down
to make them real for others
it's like they're all secrets
locked inside my heart,
tearing it apart
just because i don't know
where the damn key is.

i think i'm going to start to break the door down.