Broken---
Beautiful,
you try so hard to fix me,
can't you see
without your beautiful eyes tearing up?
Can't you say
without your beautiful lies tearing up
what's left of my reality?
Hiding,
wearing your own face as a mask,
not to conceal,
but to protect us, you say,
because you're too honest to protect yourself.
You feel so alone in the dark,
can't you feel this warmth on your own face?
I can't even look at you.
You burn my eyes.
How can you call yourself cold?
I can't even touch you.
You're so far away, even when you're here.
How can you call yourself distant,
when I can feel your tears on my face?
Clear,
and bright like a full moon is bright,
so much whiteness shining
not from you,
you say,
but through you.
How can I believe that,
when I'm standing here in the focus?
You're on and off like a flame,
and you burn me inside and out.
How can you stand in all that heat
and not be consumed by it?
The truth in your words leaves me bleeding.
It cuts like a healer's knife,
hurting as it mends.
I don't know what truth is, anymore,
but if truth means dark and cold and empty,
then I think I'll keep your beautiful lies,
and I'll let the heat take over me.
If I'm going to be broken,
better to let you be the one to break me.
Better to let you be the one tearing up my world.
---