how tricky these traps are that i set stealthily in the deepest dark nights for myself

the desperate stench of desire wafts up and reminds me of every moment i chose a him over me, simultaneously

i look into your eyes and see the fear that looked out of my own and washed over my world for so many moons

for this reason i am hardened and softened all at once, my legs moving before the decision has even registered in my brain

i weep then, not because of loss, but because of the growing pains that have finally manifested tangible change

I wish my head would stop turning in the direction of my phone,
waiting with batted breath for the writing of text, an indication you're still awake.
I wish I wouldn't fill up with overwhelming waters of disappointment,
because I already know that you won't reply.
I wish you would text me first because I don't want to seem clingy.
I wish I could stop my eyes from glancing at your name every five seconds,
wishing it was a name belonging to a person I didn't want to need.
I wish I didn't miss you so late at night.

You and I used to stay up until the break of day just looking at each other through that tiny phone screen. When did those stares become blank ones on the street? When did all those memories become just that? Memories. I feel like a fool to believe you still love me because you’ve told three others that, too. I know I’m smarter than this. To fall for this all over again. But they say ignorance is bliss, right? You were once my bliss. Whatever happened to that little house in the woods where we would lay around all day listening to music and falling even more in love? Or the two kids we’d already named? So tell me, do you still love me or am I just wasting my time?

The maniac is moving down Main.
An umbrella raised, but there's no rain.
The sun in distain, is laughing at his face.
He shades the pain, from the human race.

The maniac enters the store.
The shoppers stop, and drop to the floor.
They hear him sigh, and begin to cry.
What did he even go there for?

The maniac's at my window.
I hide inside, and pray he'll go.
He rattles on the pane, now there's a steady rain.
But I tell myself Hell No.

The maniac is in my head.
He entered while i dreamt in bed.
He'd found the hidden key, he entered quitely.
The maniac is in my head.