Have we lost to our memories?

each days passes with more fervor than the last. each night lingers with more intent than the last. in pursuit of vagaries we reach out to in vain, letting ourselves drown in the depths that have cast in stone our doubts for tomorrow. is it really pointless to persist on analyzing that which is gone? the incessant drones of voices in ear drums as they persevere to let it be known that being lost is never by mistake, but by complacency. yet they have always been met by nonchalance, when faking confidence.

have we lost to our memories?

each calculated step performed to the joy of a perfectionist. each step she dances, delicate and full of grace. yet her face is sullen and her eyes are closed. but she does not falter. this routine she has taken again and again when laden with the misery she inflicts upon herself. she remembers perfectly, what comes after the other, almost with swagger. she knows i sit and stare in awe as her pink pointe puts to shame a midsummers night's dream.

flooding lights, blind my sight.

she stands in the middle of the stage motionless letting the light cast shadows under her eyes to hide her shame from me. she stretches her hand out and whispers my name, begging for my awakening. pleading for my influence as she feeds off it to stay sane. she touches my fingers and drags me in between everywhere and good bye, knowing i need an end to my heading nowhere.

but she is deceitful.

like a drop that had sent ripples through still water, i blink. causing a tremor in my state of vision shaking my sense of self awake; finding myself sitting amongst silence and the vibrations of strings attached to piano keys. only to see the stage empty, proving my bliss montage fake. the pink pointe in my hand, tattered and aged depicting my state of mind.

i have lost, to perdurance.

Pass me by. Leave me to die.

do not spend some time to analyse the disparate layers of meaning embedded in me. do not take the time to lavish upon the complexity that is me, your shallow emotions conditioned by society. do not pay attention to all the minute details that fill the shell that has become of me. do not touch the tears that are off a different colour, that roll down my colourless cheeks. do not attempt to sew the wounds that have riddled my neck. do not pick me up off of the icy floor that welcomes me.

you. do not.

you sit in the corner and pretend that you are overwhelmed in hurt. you bury your face in your quivering hands and deceive me with your tears after you push me down the steps that lead to the gutter. you sob softly and flinch when you gaze upon the deep gash in my chest and fake that you are to blame. you slump against the wall dazed and weak and convince yourself that this is worse than death, after i am dead.

stop pretending.

i know you have eaten your fill and leave me to the vultures. i know you are relieved because the moment i decided i had enough, i forced submission. i know your elation now that my decision to leave has left you with no choice to make. i know you feel freedom the moment i had turned my back and you impaled me with a sly smile that took form of a shiv that tore through my flesh and left a spine that splintered. i know.

in the perfect world, i would not have known you.

and that would be perfect.

put the gun to my head and squeeze as much as you desire.

i am already numb.

do you see epiphany?
you have cut me down to size.

Caress.

I dreamt you in last night, sleeping outside my door. I could smell your scent, hear your accent, feel your eyes, kiss your breath. I saw the light caress your body as you strolled by so casually, so comfortable among your things. I pushed through and was steadily riding through your imagination.

you pierce my reality and you drag me down and out holding my hand and make me lie beside you. i hold you tight but you don't. i lay a kiss near your lower lip but you don't turn away. i want to look at you but you shut your eyes. i want to whisper into your ear but you cover your ears. i close my eyes now.

it is the sweet smell that you emit from your exterior. the smell of your exasperation when you strain under pressure from your predominant desires. it the smell of the pain you feel when engulfed in self question of your perceived morals that seem to blur during our deluge of thoughts. only i can see it for you are saturating my mind with every subtle movement of the pools of midnight that are your eyes.

it is the touch of your flowing hair when it grazes my eyes and forces them to close in preparation for your hands that caress me. dainty fingers that follow the bruises down to my chest that my heart speeds up its rhythm and you listen to it, intently. the touch of the tip of your nose at my neck and the soft caressing of your eyelashes when you gaze upon my slight smile that i smile when i know you are looking at me.

now that you are soothed and reassured, you sing for me. the gentle and soft voice of tiny moments when fingers entwine. the song we have the last waltz as two lonely people together.

i submit.

do as you wish with me.

Ominous.

i stand alone engulfed in phyrric victories, and drowned in hearsay. while she relentlessly reminds me that i rest on her bosom,

And while no one plans to sleep out in the gutter, sometimes it just is the most comfortable place.

it is true, when you find you open your eyes to the ominous milieu, you taste the asphalt that had been forced upon your face. the impression the gravel left on your skin no touch of tolerance. inhaling the fumes left by the hatred and death dealings of many a cadaver. the rotting of the clear air and no rays of sunlight to replenish the flora that had already withered reflecting the feelings that have stung my insides for decades. and decades to come. but all of this found only inside the skull of a troubled mind and the gutter is laid out as planned to become home. as sanctuary for the nights that a blanket might protect from the icy wind, but would prove ineffectual; as the bones were sore and the material flesh numb from the pain. screaming inside my mind for an escape.

You're an echo vibrating off the tiled walls.

and like it i am empty and hollow. but the echoes have been quick in return as the walls have been boxing me in. closing in on my lifeless carapace when i slumber lost in whirlwinds of thought that derail me from my sanity. do you really wish to sit there so calmly and watch me twitch in my sleep? do you really wish to see me shiver and drench myself in cold sweat? do you really wish to hold my hand through this ordeal i have willed myself into surviving? and then she whispers into my ear,

I know the stillness of your emotions will shine through and the faithlessness in your eyes will glow under the stage lights and you do not belong in the spew of predetermined lines.

yes she pierces my unconsciousness and i hear her ever so clearly. her confidence in my non-existent courage has seen me overcome countless hurdles. yet i am confused as to the reason why. why do you bruise yourself and forcefully blind your sight when you feel the roughness of my palms and you know of my past misconceptions? and you adamantly pardon my naiveté? why?

Everything you do is a self-portrait. There are times it might look like St. George and the Dragon or The Rape of the Sabine Women but the words you use, they are all you.

i do not doubt thee, but your judgment.

and yet i only seek the exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.