I’m suspended here in the empty space of this empty room,
Wishing I could go back to the way things were,
But knowing I need to move forward to the way things are.
Why does the right decision always have to be so hard?
I prance about my bare and lonely room,
Prattling on lightly – making small talk with heartbreak -
As I box up the memories.
I’ll box up the time and energy and pieces of my heart I wasted on you.
I tried to compartmentalize my feelings for you,
But here I am melting into a puddle of remorse on the broken tiles.
I’m playing with fire and I know it.
I dance haughtily around its wicked flames – taunting and teasing.
Its lip curls back as it snarls, flicking its tongue to catch the tips of my hair,
But I throw back my head and laugh.
Flipping my wild mane of honey-colored locks just short of its merciless grasp.
The seas of innocence that pool inside my green eyes are farce.
Green is an expression of illness,
And I am often sick with my own experience.
I know that if I’m caught by the flames -
Flames that burn like a ball of passion inside my hallow chest –
I’ll never be freed.
Not unless I have the strength to free myself, as you would not do me such a favor.
You.
You and your high tower of strength and independence,
Sitting high above the rest of us.
Sitting in your room with white walls and folk music playing softly in the background –
Like a lullaby, sweeping in and out of consciousness.
Lulling her into a deep state of blissful confusion
Before you bite her neck with your sloppy, sideways smile.
I watch, silhouetted in the doorway, as you ensnare her with talk of philosophy and religion.
Lights low.
Passion high.
The tension between your two bodies slowly simmers beneath a thin surface.
You spin her witty tales,
Weaving your endearing phrases into the fabric of her cotton t-shirt.
You smile and beckon me in.
The word ‘friend’ roles off your tongue like a pearl of honey,
But lands like a drop of acid on the pieces of my shattered heart.
I throw you a cocky grin to hide the pain.
I shake my head saucily – feigning carefree independence.
It’s the game we knowingly, yet willingly, play.
The flames begin to build and roar as I skirt around its outer edges –
Dancing in and out of its reach,
Flirting with the line,
Taunting, daring its hot temper.
You indulge my in this dangerous game of cat-and-mouse.
I’ve wasted countless prayers and wishes –
Hoping to escape the hungry claws of the burning fire,
But knowing I’ve walked willingly into the open mouth of the monster I’ve tried so hard to conquer.
We both know, in the end, I’ll be swallowed up in the flames.
Wishing I could go back to the way things were,
But knowing I need to move forward to the way things are.
Why does the right decision always have to be so hard?
I prance about my bare and lonely room,
Prattling on lightly – making small talk with heartbreak -
As I box up the memories.
I’ll box up the time and energy and pieces of my heart I wasted on you.
I tried to compartmentalize my feelings for you,
But here I am melting into a puddle of remorse on the broken tiles.
I’m playing with fire and I know it.
I dance haughtily around its wicked flames – taunting and teasing.
Its lip curls back as it snarls, flicking its tongue to catch the tips of my hair,
But I throw back my head and laugh.
Flipping my wild mane of honey-colored locks just short of its merciless grasp.
The seas of innocence that pool inside my green eyes are farce.
Green is an expression of illness,
And I am often sick with my own experience.
I know that if I’m caught by the flames -
Flames that burn like a ball of passion inside my hallow chest –
I’ll never be freed.
Not unless I have the strength to free myself, as you would not do me such a favor.
You.
You and your high tower of strength and independence,
Sitting high above the rest of us.
Sitting in your room with white walls and folk music playing softly in the background –
Like a lullaby, sweeping in and out of consciousness.
Lulling her into a deep state of blissful confusion
Before you bite her neck with your sloppy, sideways smile.
I watch, silhouetted in the doorway, as you ensnare her with talk of philosophy and religion.
Lights low.
Passion high.
The tension between your two bodies slowly simmers beneath a thin surface.
You spin her witty tales,
Weaving your endearing phrases into the fabric of her cotton t-shirt.
You smile and beckon me in.
The word ‘friend’ roles off your tongue like a pearl of honey,
But lands like a drop of acid on the pieces of my shattered heart.
I throw you a cocky grin to hide the pain.
I shake my head saucily – feigning carefree independence.
It’s the game we knowingly, yet willingly, play.
The flames begin to build and roar as I skirt around its outer edges –
Dancing in and out of its reach,
Flirting with the line,
Taunting, daring its hot temper.
You indulge my in this dangerous game of cat-and-mouse.
I’ve wasted countless prayers and wishes –
Hoping to escape the hungry claws of the burning fire,
But knowing I’ve walked willingly into the open mouth of the monster I’ve tried so hard to conquer.
We both know, in the end, I’ll be swallowed up in the flames.
