This is how I die Not by poison, by blade, by bullet or by fault No big exit, no trumpet, no serenade or fall Just you, yourself, left ingrained in my veins Your absence, your silence, is killing me again.
I lie awake in bed for hours Tossing and turning Trying to find comfort While dreading being alone. Stuck between my deviations As I crave and hunger for your touch. Starving for your attention Your estimable smile your laugh The things which I despised are now All that I adore and I've accustomed to But I mustn't reveal I must simply accept As we fight to move on For this after all is my decision Left only to allow time to heal us apart As I play along with this game of solitude Granting the fractures as our hearts dismantle and break apart.
I am the stovetop your mother warned you not to touch when you were five. You did it anyways, of course, because you wanted to see if you could survive the pain. I remember you telling me that story on our third date after I told you I've never met anyone I didn't end up hurting. Masochism runs in the family you said. Wreckage runs in mine. When I was five I put aluminum foil in the microwave just to sit and watch the destruction it created. When we met, I knew we wouldn't last long. Fire and ice together never does.