that beautiful bayonet that you kept under the bed, you never got how much it said. it rested there easy, while i toiled empty, and you, you took perfection to the next level. that silly song you used to sing, and bust a move to - it's rusted and ruined. those flashes of brilliance that we shared, now the mortgage is in arrears. i spent my time being way behind, and it took two years, but you finally put me out. and all these fillers that replaced you on my speed dial, they do for a while. but sometimes i'll simply take a step back and lay flat and stare up, and become all the more aware of the concrete truth.
i miss you.
and i could write a thousand pages dedicated to you, or merely call you up at work and remind you just how real i actually am. but now i've invested in a life worth living, i have misgivings. ones about chasing you and facing you, because last time you spoke to me it was clear you finally, once and for all, had the facts. the facts bring me to tears. and i think of you with your circus of emotions and flagrant disregard for my well being, a disdain for all that was undoubtedly at the core of me. you cast all my mistakes in stone, set up a throne, where nightly i'd bow down and beg and repent. and while i was busy reliving all the poetic mistakes i'd made, you'd do anything but participate.
and, i still miss you.
you, the miyagi of manipulation, the bear claws of hatred, the monumental virgin mary with a wicked stare, the vine of life choking out mine,
to me, the stubborn baby i just wanted to cradle.
i have to fine tune my heart and train it to stop with this. i can't miss you. i'm just paralyzed with fear that my heart will stop working without you pumping the blood.