Misery loves company
and tragedy is my greatest muse.
So it's no wonder that you followed me around,
resting on my shoulders,
at ease with the knowledge that
you became my cloak of heartbreak.
Now it's down to me understanding
when the universe is going to turn around
and beg for my forgiveness
for chasing you into the crooks of my soul.
I spend my time hiding in the corners of these umpteen walls
because closing my eyes is easier than saying goodbye.
that's the nature of a heartbreaker
conditioned by the fingers that kept chipping away
tiny bits of an already-exhausted heart.
I know that you know that I know that these word games
only mean that I've always been better at surviving a storm
than living it.
There's a comfort in being ravaged by the multiple hands
of near-perfect lovers;
In being chewed and spit out because the only feeling
it leaves you breathing
is the knowledge that now,
there's one less heartbreak to deal with.
Whoever said that the number game was the act of adding on,
never understood the luxury
of taking off
what was never sown.
So here I am,
standing tall, feeling small
knowing that the superficial forehead kiss you gave my emotions
was just a way of letting me know
that beneath pretty words, and white lies
is always a bed of glass
waiting to teach me how to sew up the gaping scars of
answers that never had questions.