End of the Show

You pretend to not hear my voice,

As I walk up from behind.

Firmly straighten your head forward,

As you fix your face emotionless.

Can you still feel my tears,

Wet against your right shoulder,

Dark t-shirt, now darker.

Can you still feel my body,

Pulled into your hungry arms,

Full heart, now fuller.

You were so in want,

And I,

So in want to satisfy anyone's want.

And you,

So convenient.

At one point in time,

I wanted to give you the world,

Forgive me.

Not for failing,

but wanting to fail.

At a later point in time,

I played the vulnerability card,

To hide the sabotage.

Forgive me.

Not just for hiding,

but for hating you.

Hating you for being so opportune

A stage,

For my show.

A sandbox, canvas, latch, bidet,

For my games, my manipulations, my insecurities, my emotional diarrhea.

An elaborate scheme unbeknownst,

To you,

Nor me.

At the current point in time,

I have ended the show,

The main character has died,

I am now well.

Forgive me again

but,

Perhaps that button is pushed

broke.