I wanted falling in love
to be real
but every kiss is just
a step in a dance
we are the players in and
the writers of
our own tragedy
each morning our hands
curl together
like a flower curling it's petals
inwards
away from the sun
what else is there to do?
but play this game
of never knowing the intent
behind each others words
spoken roughly, then gently,
compassionately or loveless
like a wild roulette wheel
of emotion
we could end it, anytime
but instead we will act
it out until we die
turned away from each other
on a bed
the last words said neither
I love you, or I hate you
just deafening silence,
a blank stare of apathy