LETTERS I'LL NEVER WRITE

DEAR DIARY

Caught in the crossfire of his glare,
it became too much to bear.
The pressure of perfection,
never knowing the exact selection.
Realizing I'm not the only one there.

The dosage increased,
orbs weakened,
for he believes it's just another weekend.

No amount of frustration could change my view of this creation,
for his halo shone brighter then ever before,
as the cool cylinder grazed the floor.
A two minute break
can make it look like a mistake.

Back in the booth
I portrayed a role to make it through,
all alone in a crowded room
with plenty of empty spaces
only a few displaced unfamiliar faces
aroma as think as his intoxication.

Words as heavy as a loaded gun,
"don't question it, just let it be done,"
It was my fault, I'm the one who caused it, we say forever but never as long as we promise.

Only myself to blame for not being all he wanted,
try to copy the plastics
and end up a bad habit.

Never abandoned, never left,
never lived, never been loved,
but still I seem to be lacking trust.
He was to part, as I felt in his touch.
The sorrow for his soul rushed through my heart as the tears were screaming, as they were streaming, demanding.

They say if you love something, let it go.
I say no.

Those pews, shows will never know.
I fibbed in the confessions,
spoke at the wake,
and morn when I bow my head to pray.

So, dear dairy,
I leave you with this,
he was to go,
and I just couldn't resist.