Your sweet lies mystify.
You intentionally created an illusory pretence to keep me wanting you more.
Me wanting you more, more than you’ve ever wanted me.
I’ve tried to draw blood from this stone, but it’s impossible. All that exists is sharp knife-edges of ice-cold indifference.
Yet you continue to dance with me.
Part of you wants to take a chance with me.
The other part wants to ruin, destroy and punish me because I make you feel, and you’d rather crucify your heart, set it on fire, and condemn it to hell than cut your chest open and reveal it.
Like a stingray, seemingly innocent, you swim calm and collected in the depths of my spun-out mind curiously observing, waiting for the optimum moment to kill.
You already have the words—the sword—that could end this one way or the other, but instead you act oblivious and callously toy with me.
You slowly take off your battlefield armor, put on your royal cloak and step up to your majestic throne. From high above you watch, detached and distant, as my emotions spill out.
You smile. My insecurities unravel.
You see my raging fire flickering as you filter out those faint familiar fragments of yourself.
You know the game well—you control yourself while knowing which buttons to press to play, pause or twist me.
I’m frozen still in the raw silent echo of your treacherous lair.
You wonder why I remain. Your brain marvels at how I allow you to pull me under and hold me without physical force.
One by one, you snap the protective layers that encapsulate me, and I’m powerlessly at your mercy, lost in delusion and frustration.
Is this what you think love looks like? When you whisper intoxicated sentences so that I return and feed your egotistical desires…is this really it?
F*ck no! This isn’t love. Love doesn’t try to crack and break someone.
You led me into this wretched black hole full of bullsh*t promises and abandoned me here, rejected, denied, ignored and mocked me.
You offer poison with one hand, elixir with the other, and you rise in awe as I chemically react to your spell.
I should never have taken your contaminating pills and never have listened to your dangerous convincing tales that tricked me into thinking that you were the safe, sane one.
I loved you. I wandered chaotically close to crazy, but now I stand alone on the burning bridge that leads out of here.
I know you won’t meet me halfway.
You see through me and I through you.
It isn’t poetic, and it’s far from pretty or peaceful. And though we run, and try to escape the push and pull of this curse, our opposing sides magnetically force our haunting wounds to touch.
So I wait.
As maddening as it is to be injured daily in this karmic collision, there is one bloodstained question polluting my thoughts:
“Fly or try harder?”
I loved you, wanted you—and yes, that makes me feel crazy.
I fear how easily you move me, so I refuse to fly. I will fearlessly face this fear and remove the curse.
I’m fighting back. This war is not yet over, but it is almost through.
I am only crazy when embroiled with you.