Through the passing of time I found a way to make the darkness behind his eyes shine like the morning sun
You’d think it would be a relief to feel the warmth of them
How strange that what is supposed to be cathartic, isn't

Steady voice and an enticing smile, his requests used to be passionate, innocent
Suddenly those eyes that used to start a fire in me grow cold and I am going with them
My fingers race across the keys to try and find the words before the fantasy fades and reality confronts me

Why can't I feel the rain on my skin without trying to put myself to blame for it
The world around me returns vividly
The nightmare is what I’m living  
My palms moistened by tears because the hands that used to hold them fell

They’re a clenched fist now

I had romanticized every red flag
All his potential I created in my head

Oh the beauty of poetry
It could be, it should’ve been

But it never is, is it?