Left/Right/Wrong/Right
Fluttering in the empty wind
A helpless shred of heart
About to be whisked away for good.

Trying to bend my limbs into
Four corners because I must.
All they will see is a perfect box.
All they will see is nothing.

How do I love you?
Let me count the ways:
-
-

They see us, I look away.
The clock strikes 12, I walk away.
A constant battle between the realms
Of reality and happily ever after.
This isn't love, it's another kind of torture.

Maybe in another universe.

Or perhaps not even then.