Truth.

And we stand there screaming at each other, your eyeballs filled with fury and rage echoing like a giant boom from your stubborn mouth; ricocheting off these vacant walls that are filled with secrets and sadness and bitterness from 18 years of nights like this before. But yet, somehow, all I am really thinking about is how wonderful that tank top fits you and is it new? I’ve never seen it before. Hm. Maybe when the dust settles and the morning light finally catches the particles of truth floating around in this stuffy air and we realize our insecurities are not worth fighting for- Perhaps then I’ll ask to borrow it.