She frolicked through trouble, and dandled with mischief. Alison Wonderland; everything I wished I was and so much more. Ever emanating her doe-eyed façade; proclaiming our jests mere “mischief.”
Yet, an unspoken verdict (Foretaste? Conception? Notion?) had cloaked the truth: wickedness rippled beneath our parade.
I nuzzled her contours; my peripheral eye – nailed to her profile, her blueprints, her chassis. I stalked her mirage – dancing with vapor.
She glissaded about, no fool to my truth, varnishing my mantle.
I belonged to Alison: perpetually at her side. Our couplet became a “we.” So, We regretted nothing. We veered for the pyre: caroming(skimming?) those embers alit with vice.
She narrated my mental seminar. Discarding my dogmas to uphold her own; and thus, my mind was hers.
My mind was her mind.
Alison made heads turn, and mouths water, as we sidled – hand in hand – down the street. She was my Christmas morning: each colloquium – giftwrapped with finesse. She personified paradise, she illustrated utopia. Hatching our Carnival; netting us, enamored, sidling the Carousal. We’d skim, we’d sail, her halo – my fossil. Her lips, her eyes, her hands… they echoed the innocence of a child. Niave, innocent, and giftwrapped in wonder.
Little Miss Wonderland: my very own fairytale. She was mine alone; she was mine to keep.
Did I want her, or did I want to be her?
Alison Wonderland.
Her aura – so celestial – paralleled my prose. When she banished my husk – Maple Thatcher – I cackled good riddance… And I grew a new personality to accommodate her own.
For, without Ali – devoid of our we – I doubted the very existence of me.
On my composition, she bestowed rhythm. She gave tune to my silence; her chimes, her cadence. My ink was her song – fusing a symphony. A symphony of Alison: the melody to solidify our tryst.
My mind was her mind.
And yet… somehow, I missed a carriage – or two – aboard her train of thought. For, the same felon spiting my existence, was the angel I loved to life. Gladly, I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew Maple down.
Fused against Alison, I needed none of Maple.
Carnival infatuations…

Alison Wonderland.

Oh, you have so much power
But you can't even see it
You could make her do anything
With a smile on her face
You could ask her anything
And she'd answer with her best quip
You could steal her heart
But she already gave it to you
--Giftwrapped-- With no hesitation
And you've held it hostage
Like the greedy boy you are

I stand here while you smile at me with your cold, perfect smile, acting like nothing is wrong.  
As if the most natural thing in the world is shutting out someone you supposedly care about so completely.  
I’m happier without you in my life you said.  
So why are you here now, playing at pretense?  

Smiling with the same eyes that barely even glanced my way while you peeled me apart,
layer by layer, cutting me to the core with the coldness blade of apathy and rejection.  
I would rather have suffered under the brunt of your anger, heard your reasons
instead of breaking myself against the wall of silence you built around yourself..  

You aren’t so naïve as to think nothing mattered, when you saw every word slam home.  
You said it look like you had just taken away my puppy.  No, something much more dear to me.  
My heart, giftwrapped for you in a shiny new bow, along with my fears, and pain, and loneliness, and a
lifetime's worth of freshly salted tears.  
I hope you enjoyed your feast.  

So why are you here now?  What is it you want from me that I didn’t already give,
only to have you throw it back in my face?  
You test me, as if to see if I can hold up under the strain of having you close, but yet not able to touch, to tell you what I really feel.  
Because we both know you don’t like my honest side, the reality of us is too much for you,
when all you wanted was to escape your life through pleasant subterfuge.  

Do you really think I want to hear how you and he are doing?  your wonderful plans for the future?
Or about how to still stay in touch with your last girlfriend, the one you never really ever let go?  
What is the goal of this twisted game you play?  
I see now what you really wanted to do was hide from yourself.  
I was your crutch-now that you can walk again I get put in the closet, until the next time you fall.
I was, and could have been, so much more but you weren’t ready for that.  
So we’re back to the beginning, even though it feels much more like prolonging the ending.  
A humorless punchline to the joke that our relationship turned into, and that’s not worth my time.