I wish my poetry was more real
That I could be more willing to use my pencil as a scalpel and scrape out the gangrene infection left from the pieces of your soul that sit in my chest like shrapnel
We weren't very good at open heart surgery, were we
I didn't care that you cheated your way through med school the way you cheated on the promises you made between breaths as we read each other's minds with our lips
I would give anything to know if it's my heart that is the puppet in this chaos, or if my body is the one being pulled by the strings you wound around my waist before you told me that we couldn't be together anymore
Who is the major player on this stage, anyway
With clouds as curtains and stars as spotlights when we need them most
We are but actors
Living separate lives
We haven't exchanged lines with each other for nearly 6 months
Well
We did
But that was off-book, backstage
Where nobody but the cockroaches and dust bunnies could clap beneath our feet as we realized-
I still love you