I am beginning to despise the way my hands shake
when the thought of you crosses my mind.
Even memories aren't enough
to hold my frailty together.
Every crystalline tear that stains porcelain cheeks
knows me far better than your lack of devotion.
Blue, turquoise, aqua eyes.
Do they disturb you, their topaz clearness disarming you?
Every single truth you have been careless enough to overlook
swims just below the surface of my pretty perfect facade.
I wanted you to be the one to see past my charade,
to love me enough to care enough to strip me down
to the soul that lies beneath.
You were flawless to me, and I wanted you to see
that I wanted your love to smooth my scars
and comfort me in the dark that is my overpowering loneliness.
But you never got past dusk or lust;
your hand inching past my waistband was the only proof
that you ever gave a damn about me,
and your fingers reaching hurriedly for your zipper
was the only proof of what you wanted to find inside of me.
I have given you my heart, my endless thoughts, my ramblings,
my soul in form of black pen on paper and blood on the sheets.
In return just give me your goodbye,
because out of everything, that would be heartfelt.
It's better living without you than living with you
and knowing that you just don't care to try.
Those 'I love yous' were empty promises,
and the only way for you to realize it is for them to be broken.
So leave me with the shells of your words,
forgotten murmurings and cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-dies
that will forever haunt me.
In my dreams I never want you to leave me alone,
because I needed you more than I let on.
Now I can have you, if only in fragile memories
and the echoes of your passion.
Please don't forget me, even if all you remember
is my skin and my Fruit Of The Loom.
