I can hear the walls as they close in around me
bits of crumbled ceiling in my hair and eyes,
and there you are, right in the middle of it.
You’ve gone and made a mess of everything…
And you smile.
Taunting me with that sickle shape,
your eyes slice through me like lasers
hindering my ability to speak or think,
tongue is numb, and words are foreign.
When you led me in with false promises,
telling me you were different, that I was different, and that we were going to do many things together,
I told myself not to believe you,
but I am rebellious,
especially to my own intuition.
You, unscathed by building, pouring into me, smiling,
and my blood boils.
I think of all the things I used to think
when I was first with you.
I thought you were different,
that you wouldn’t prove the norm of people who
tell me that they like who I am,
and just leave me,
broken and as empty
as the void, a dark existence sweeping and swallowing it’s unsuspecting victims into its wide grinning maw.
This is the epitome of disappointment,
and I should know because I am her muse.
When did it become passionless for you?
There was a night in our late talks where you told me I love you and I said nothing. Sometimes, I wonder if that was what did you in.
Or was it because I didn’t force myself onto as many people as I could, wearing your colors, praising your name? Was it because I didn’t come to you enough?
Or is it like the puppy, who suddenly becomes a dog, sent back to the pound because she’s suddenly not cute and far more responsibility than you thought?
I decided to sink with a ship not mine, and you have come to bear witness.
I hope you remember the look on my face,
carry it within the depths of your person
for as long as you walk this earth.