Maybe tomorrow,
I will be strong enough
to ignore you.

I will never be yours,
and you will never be mine.
But in those brief, fleeting moments
when I'm drowning in your embrace
delusion never felt so real.

Perhaps it is the way
that words can become like chains
repressing, confining a soul
so that nothing at all is precious
and everything feels contrived.
Or perhaps it's the feeling that
remains when the passion fades;
like stagnant waters in a polluted bay.
I've never been content with complacency.
Or maybe, perhaps it's the fat
of another owning the rights to my heart.
What have you ever done
to deserve control over my own happiness?

There's a lot of things
that I am, have been,
or will be,
but none so powerful
as that brief and fleeting moment,
when I crumble
like ancient pebbles
in your arms.

Do you realize
that the me I was, with you
is destroyed, forever?
Swallowed, suppressed, and
suffocated
until her fire was burnt out.
What I was is me no longer,
because we, as humans, adapt to survive.
Don't you realize
if I were to remain the me I was with you,
then every fleeting glance,
every strained encounter,
would slowly, intentionally
destroy
all parts of my being.

Maybe if I counted every tear
Lined them up in a row,
Or filled them up in a glass,
That was shed on your account,
Maybe then I would be a little wiser
than to lie awake at night
Waiting, wishing, hoping
for your call.

Why do we, as humans,
desire so strongly the things
that destroy us?