Together, we burn.
Like a bad ’80s movie we stand there,
with our big hair and bright colored clothes.
We just needed rain and a candlelit room.
You lean in, whisper what I want to hear.
You extract me from my reality and place me into your web of injustice.
Not outright lies,
but so many untruths.
A toxic liquid of fear and your past,
that lash out in unintentional bad intentions.
Scattering your baggage like breadcrumbs,
and leaving it in my wake to stumble upon.
You’ve ignored my offer to help you unpack.
Disregarded my hand of support as you fumbled to fold,
organize, and attempt to store it all away.
In desperation you’ve thrashed and strewn it all into dark corners.
Pressing it deeper into a room I can’t reach.
You so quickly have forgotten
that I loved your bent pieces,
and your bold cries of imperfection.
I was crazy for your pain as you temporarily guarded it in my arms.
Crazy for you.
For a moment I was Pretty in Pink and you were my misunderstood bad boy in The Breakfast Club.
A fantasy manifested to fit your life,
and then real life was not good enough.
So you packed your bags and went back in time.
To a place you find comfort…
back to your darkness.