Not Your Typical Literary Masterpiece: AKA My Mood

I'll Talk to you- maybe... NextTime

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Author's Note:Don't take the poem seriously........ it isn't that deep- and I don't actually mean any of the things that I claim to desire- I honestly can't bring myself to actually want that; I'm not that bold/reckless... I could never...It's just a creative expression of my emotions.. and I've been meaning to write something like this for quite some time- I just finally finished it (however, it still needs some work, but alas, I'm impatient, so I'm publishing it.________________________

I started off this page with a sigh,
Thinking I could write through the bothersome lie,
Hoping you'd fade away, eventually,
And I could finally breathe, look up, and see.

But fair lady fate, she scoffs at my plea,
I know I've etched my fair share of scars, you see,
But that won't stop my human heart from its cry,
Believing you hurt me more, though it's a lie.

I know... I pulled the trigger this time,
But you wanted it more, in that silent crime.
And somehow, I began to desire it too,
But you, fast-paced, no longer felt it true.

It pains me that you drowned in your lies,
I'm sorry I burdened you with hollow ties.
I... the lonely protagonist, pretentious and bold,
Assuming I needed no one, yet here I fold.

For you... perhaps things were different, indeed,
And I confess, I hate that idea, that seed.
If I had to be honest, it's unfair, this fate,
I didn't hurt you enough, and now it's too late.

You delivered the final blow, it stings,
And I, foolish, thought I'd be the one to bring
The end, to push you away with my hand,
But you left, and here alone I stand.

I was always the pretentious one, with wild fantasies,
Perhaps, if I'd stuck to my intuition, my tendencies,
I would be the one unbothered, ignored,
Playing the villain, instead of being floored.

For when I look at you, I can't be mad,
Only at your voice, your words, and the sad
Truth that you moved on, while I still linger,
Wishing I'd played the villain, a clearer singer.

Perhaps, if I embraced the darkness inside,
I wouldn't be here, with nothing to hide.
Instead of the fool, I'd be the one unbowed,
The villain in the end, standing proud.

Yet here I am, with foolish regret,
Thinking of you, unable to forget.
So maybe, instead of being the fool,
I'd have played the villain, and kept my cool.

But the truth is, I wanted to be cruel,
To watch you squirm, to break every rule,
To see you suffer, as I did inside,
To watch your tears, to shatter your pride.

I wanted you to feel my pain,
To taste the blood, to go insane.
But I was weak, too soft, too kind,
And now you're free, while I'm confined.

I'll talk to you—maybe... next time,
When my heart is cold, and my soul is grime.
When I can be the villain you deserve,
And watch you suffer, with every nerve.

But until then, I'll sit and wait,
And let my anger turn to hate.
For I was the fool, but never again,
I'll be the villain, and you'll be the slain.