it's a game now

picking out our memories like poppy seeds -
that didn't sprout on time.

pulling feelings straight from my chest
onto the table under white light
with a shaking knife not willing to dissect

it's a movie that i can't look up the ending to

i feel the jostle of every plot twist
it's cinderella but no shoe fit

it's guessing and waiting and being wrong every time.

it's writing our names in hearts...
calling you mine
when you have no heart to name,
just two faces and lies

it's thinking this is forever
when never is looking more like the right time