You walk through long hallways of doubt,
tripping over the things you believed, but shouldn’t have.
Falling through the cracks of a beautiful lie.
You drink in the sweet scent of going too far,
of not being able to turn around;
tracing your fingers down the constellations you drew on the walls,
the ones that predicted your fate.
But now all that is left is a straight line with an abrupt ending.
Brief and beautiful was never what you wanted,
but it also was the furthest thing from what you had.
It was long and painful,
a mosaic of misshaped sentences and remnants of shattered hearts,
pieces of glass you could never quite retrieve from your heels after it all fell to the floor.
Now, you sit in a dark room wishing for someone to save you;
but you have no perception of how you let yourself end up there.
You have no logical way to leave.