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