Why would you want this **** in your life she asks
I ask myself the same question constantly.
Yet I reply
....the same reason anyone keeps anything they love in their lives.
Even if it hurts.

The game is not a foot
It is a hand
And it is waving goodbye
Or hello
Depending on which direction we face
I wear so many faces I catch it coming and going.

Thank you for never keeping a single promise you ever made.
Thank you for making me feel
Horrifyingly inadequate
thank you for making me feel heaven
Showing me a picture of forever
And then robbing me blind

My heart is not a warm blanket to be put away when done with.
I am not a puddle of sad water to be played in with delight
Only to go home and wash off with the hottest water possible.

Thank you for abandoning me at my worst
Arguably my best
The hand can't say anything if I remove all its fingers
The game is then just a ****** stump
there will be no playing.

The only way to win the game
Is to not play it at all.
Yet this is still a very calculated maneuver.
Thus I cannot escape.
I cannot get out
I am lost.
only to find myself
staring blankly into a room full of shattered mirrors