I was never anything but flammable material
I kept you warm but I burned myself out
Every week I tell my therapist about you
How things have changed
How I have a new man every night
How I rarely learn their names and they never call me back
How I'm nothing but empty anymore
And you judge me for healing wrong
As if what I'm doing is any worse than five weeks of self pity
As if your feelings will always continue to trump mine
As if you still have some say in what I do
As if you're still holding the matches
But I'm learning to speak for myself
I've learned how to moan three different names in less than two days
And how to make none of them sound even remotely like yours
I'm moving on and it kills you, I know
But you only liked the dancing fire and the warmth
You never could stand the smell of smoke.

Shame on you for not loving me back
Shame on you for not staying
Shame on you for not making me stay
Shame on you for...
Shame on you
Shame on you
Shame on
*Shame on me, for hoping, believing and loving, and living.

and maybe i fell so hard into lust
that you tricked me into believing it was love

All I ever wanted left me,
So I took it all.
All my lovers betrayed me,
So I ruined thee.
All I've ever known was subjective,
So I really knew nothing.
All my advice was selfish,
So I grinned right throughly.

I'm a wonderful caricature,
of what it means to be human.
Clowned up, and distorted,
that is the vision of me.
But worry not, fair sweet.
I'll be here as you worry and rot.
And I will feed.

I am all six circles of hell,
I am every demon.
I am the lie in the truth,
That glints so eagerly,
In the soft blue eyes of mine,
That can almost... make you feel mine.
Almost, but just out of a trance,
nay nothing ever was, just a circle,
That has never closed, just a cycle that,
has no history, impotent, yet
all consuming, I can't find the truth,
So I'll live in the lies, and they shall be,
The ties that I bind,
myself and others, delicately,
deliciously enjoying the feast,
I provide, alone, in the dark,
talking to those who live,
far far away in here, so that in my hell,
I can reside as king, and feel in control,
or an owner of something.

Yet still I awake,
stilly, I create,
These little poems on my own,
That you'll read on your own.
And you'll think, something but,
It'll be gone abruptly, as if you almost held a star,
but it twinkled unlucky.