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Annastassia Mazo Apr 2017
how do you tell the difference
between
who you are trying to be
and
who you truly are?
Annastassia Mazo Apr 2017
Sometimes the kitchen is on fire before you even turn on the stove.
and maybe it's a small fire,
one you never saw coming.
maybe your absentmindedness caught up with you again and you put foil in the microwave.
maybe no one was there to remind you that sometimes looks are deceiving.
maybe you got used to holding the knife wrong.
which would explain why you found it in your back so many times when all you were trying to do was cut the fat off of his steak.
you just wanted to cut off the parts he never liked.
maybe you weren't holding a knife at all.
maybe that's why his lips bled every time he spat out "I love you too" after a fight.
maybe that was your first mistake.
or maybe your first mistake was trying to use the stove in the first place.
they're dangerous,
and your mom never liked you to do unnecessarily dangerous things.
but where is the line for things that have become necessarily dangerous?
and when did you cross it?
This isn't a metaphor.
I really am afraid of being burned.
I never go out into the sun for too long.
I keep my curling iron on the lowest setting.
it wasn't until you came along that I got in the habit of forgetting such fears.  
Now I have these reckless tendencies.
I'm no longer satisfied with my tan until I can feel the sun poisoning boiling in my skin.
Suddenly my hair no longer curls on the lowest setting, only at 450 degrees.
and I never bother turning it off.
It has an automatic setting.
or maybe you became the automatic setting
when I stopped loving myself to love you
and maybe now that you're gone it doesn't bother me that this setting is gone.
maybe it doesn't bother me if my house goes up in flames.
maybe I'm not afraid of being burned
because the fire never burned me
as bad as you did.
and I just can't seem to remember what is real
and what is simply a figment of you.
I can remember the way the flames felt as they brushed my face,
but never your fingers.
So maybe that is the line where playing with fire becomes necessarily dangerous.
Tell my mom I crossed it years ago.
Annastassia Mazo Feb 2017
one shall not beg to be loved back.
one shall not have to beg to not be touched in any way-sacred nor unholy.
one shall not beg for a chance, nor a second chance.
one shall not beg thyself to refrain from breaking their own heart.
one shall not
but yet,
they always do.
Annastassia Mazo Jan 2017
vicious cycles;
I seem to be composed of them.
I wish I could count on one hand the amount of hearts I've broken because of you.
But I've surpassed both of my hands, and all of my toes, and moved on to the fingers of my lovers.
Annastassia Mazo Jan 2017
I again woke to the sound of your voice
but all I was left with
was your cold absence
and an echo of things
I never wanted to know
and lies I painfully wished to believe
Annastassia Mazo Dec 2016
You don't get it
My heart is pure ice and my soul is a raging fire
I don't need love,
I need glory.
I replaced the blood in my veins with power.
Don't you remember what they told you about thunderstorms?
How they're more dangerous than they appear?
How eventually they turn into hurricanes?
You should have listened to their tearful concerns because now you're caught in the eye of the storm.
Alone.
Just like you always were.
I told you I am not the woman you fall in love with, I am the woman you fear.
Learn to look both ways before crossing the street
and maybe sometime in another life you'll be able to put yourself back together.
How else do you believe I got this way?

— The End —