I listen as your throat fills up again
Spilling tainted tales of torment
That twist till your tongue ties itself
In knots to form a new shape of you.
You will talk until I am convinced.
Talk until the riddles stumble
Upon sense
And I will listen until your face turns blue.

I see the knot you've become.
A contortionist - you seem set on self mutilation;
While I watch wincing
With every sharp angle your tangles
Take you.
It must hurt to paint your body with my blood.
It must hurt to push your feet
Into shoes not built for you.

And I know you'll never find her
The shell you've moulded your shadow to fit;
As I too have played dress up in fantasy clothing;
And trust in me that they never hang well.
But I hope one day you find her;
The girl I met back then;
With a figure that wore her own words,
Because I really did like her;
I just wish you had liked her too.