you have it,
the most beautiful.
most envied,
most divine,
and even in a room
that's filled with lookalikes
you'll always be the most,
the most, the most -
a priceless treasure.
and maybe it's okay
to only be alive
through other people's eyes,
but someone's always lurking
just outside the frame -
a new obsession, waiting to be found.
most envied,
yet most hated.
there you have it,
the most unloved.

what hurts the most
is the unbearable duplicity of it all.
i wonder how long you were going to pretend
once you'd changed your mind,
once i'd become too difficult for you to adore;
i guess developing a personality
outside of your own thoughts
was a huge turn-off.
you must've hoped that love had done a better job
at clouding my judgement right before that last fight.
well, self-awareness truly is a double-edged sword;
i found myself but i lost
the last ounce of compassion
towards your ever so unimaginative lies.
now that it's time to reap the fruits of our labour
every bite gets stuck like a lump inside my throat.
but darling, just so you know,
what hurt me the most
was the unbearable duplicity of it all.

it takes two for a happy ending, but only one for a heartbreak,
and it's the guilty party that always seems so sad.
but every consequence could be avoided altogether
if he wasn't so careless about the people allowed to share his bed.
and it's a story for the ages, the one that everyone falls for.
fool her once - shame on her,
fool her twice - shame on everyone that he's slept with,
'cause he's never the one to blame.
for all the warnings and the red flags - there were none of those at all.
he said the right things and asked the right questions,
and now she can't help but wonder if there was something she missed,
she cannot stop thinking about all the others he kissed right after they'd kissed.
to love is to trust someone blindly, but it might take a very long time
for her to trust anyone again, not to mention a man.
it takes two for a happy ending, but only one for the end.

i used to love you but i don't know
if love's supposed to hurt this much.
and when you leave i try to stall you,
but lately it feels like a crutch,
and if i want to learn to walk alone
i have to let it go.
i have to let you go,
but you are wrapped just like a noose
around my throat.
i thought it was a rope to guide me,
now i know it's just a waste of time.
and all those years you have defined me,
now i can finally find out
how many of those fears were actually mine.
you're losing ground, you're out of touch,
and no, it definitely wasn't
supposed to hurt this much.
i think i've had enough for a lifetime.
i used to love you but i'm done.
figure it out.

a tragedy in miniature,
nothing but a puppet, being strung along.
when is a home no longer a home?
now that you're gone i might never know.
such an impossible creature,
and for a moment there i almost believed you
that we were gonna settle down and grow old.
now i'm the only one that's getting older.
making a note for the future;
it fades so quickly, like forgetting an old song.
your voice, your smell, your laugh -
now all of it's gone.
and i would willingly give up
the rest of my days,
filled by nothing but loneliness,
if it would give me another chance to hold you.

the world might end in the afternoon on an average tuesday,
anxiously re-reading a dozen messages without an answer.
when a broken photo frame becomes the last drop
and you find yourself unable to believe that superstitions are stupid
and the familiar ringing of the doorbell sounds like a death sentence.
despite the agony all there is to show is silent acceptance,
because their yesterday's sacrifice bought you another tomorrow
and you can only pray that in that moment they weren't alone.
although this emptiness inside of you feels like a death sentence,
the world ends every single day without anyone knowing.

everything goes if we just let it,
even our universe.
when the light at the edge of it dies out,
as if watching a guillotine strike down,
and a glimpse of a memory, elsewhere,
so far from all we've ever known,
feels like home.
but the dawn is already bleeding red
and the answers have all but disappeared,
and this fleeting moment is all we have
before the last shadow falls;
everything goes.