the lights flickered as they died
a testament to our time.
and there's blood dried on the kitchen floor,
i wonder if you'll care that it was mine.
how many times will this story rerun?
it's always the same plot,
new characters. and it's becoming old,
just like the actors.
too old to be so young and naïve.
i wonder if you think of me,
quite frankly it's been a while
since your last emotional scene.
you're chipping away,
the cracks in your porcelain skin
proving you don't bleed red.
i tried to help. to glue your pieces together,
but every piece i glued,
you ripped another off. and refused to see.
"let me go,"you begged me in a dream,
"leave me be, and set me free."
and that night, when i woke again,
i begged for an excuse, an explanation.
some kind of reason for my hurt.
all you could offer was silence. i knew then.