Citadel

Circles

Why do I continue to run around in circles over things that I cannot have?

You asked me under the moonlight and shimmering starlight about my vision of us.

I simply stood there motionless and with the courtesy of egging you on to further explain how we reach a part so defining yet so uncertain.

How many circles will draw with sharpness and rigidness until I feel less victimized?

How long will I have until I have to pick up the broken pieces of my heart to repair a fragility of a completely intangible man?

Is the vulnerability between us too much to handle? 

The soft sensation of your touch is contaminating enough to make me rerun circles.

Why is the chatter of the others you fucked with permeate my brain immensely?

Is it that I am the one to blame for the continuous feeling of devouring my own self-worth like an ouroboros eating their own tail?

I should know better than to watch you siphon my soul again by your broken will.

Is it just unfathomable to be interested in others? 

How could you make it so easy for you to make me cave into your affectionate gaze? 

I should not be maudlin over you destroying each part of mind, body, and soul, and yet my warped and distorted desires keep making me run back to you.

Why am I running around into circles around a destructive apathetic man that only sees me as a sleeve to keep him glorified and satisfied in the decisions he made?

Why are the endless men and women I stumble upon restating the same thing about you?

How you always saw them under the stars until you stole their glimmer and turned them into negligent imitations of party city glow stars?

Will I be the next one in your cycle of turning people into destructive versions of themselves?

Well, until then, at least I am still in your thoughts, and making those circles seems pointless.