When I close my eyes, all I can see is your face mid-laugh. Each and every time I open them again, I'm hit with the realization of how striking you are to me. Holy hell, I'm in so much deeper than I bargained for.
Sometimes I wish that things were a little bit different - that I could be someone else so you could properly love me. That's a little fucked, don't you think? I should appreciate who you are to me right now, because you're someone I never thought I'd have. But do I really have you in the way I think I do? Perhaps not, or perhaps so. I'll never know unless I open my mouth.
I guess I've got you in a way of my own, if that makes any sense at all. You're embroidered into my art, I'm afraid. Every time I weave a person into my art, they find a way to disappear on me. I always blame myself for that, because after so many occurrences, there's gotta be someone at fault. I can't let you disappear on me, I've gotta keep you around as long as I can.
You're everywhere I turn, and I don't know how it got to this point. All I know is that it was gradual: I fell more and more in love with you with each hour we spent together. God, I remember how hesitant I was at first to make you permanent with my words, and now look what I've done. I've let you taint everything for almost three months. I guess things have a fucked up way of working out.
I still see you when I close my eyes, but now your eyes are full of an emotion that I can't pinpoint. I'm an artist - I should be able to tell, but I'm afraid that you've tainted me so much that I can't even tell which way is up and which way is down anymore.
You're so goddamn striking; I'd kill for an hour with you.
YOU ARE READING
Self Deception
PoetryPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
