pick and choose the parts of you

You told me once that you thought my voice was beautiful. That I’ll make it. And I said, “I’ll sing my songs for you”.

So I sang my heart out, danced and broke my legs on stage for you. Blood trickled from my chapped lips but I kept on going. You were there, before; you were there, hands intertwined with mine, stepping on my toes when we waltzed but I didn’t feel it until you let me go. Your kiss was sweet until you slipped in the poison, drop by drop. You spin me around again and I’m starting to get dizzy, but I learned to keep myself quiet when it came to you. 

It was always this; you and I in an endless dance, where I end up broken, bruised and battered, and you slip on a mask and try to make me out to be the antagonist. I’m still left right where you left me. You sank your teeth deep into my skin until I bled out on the stage floor. Play the piano for me as I finish with a solo. Adrenaline injects itself into my veins like heroin, so I put my all into us, even if it turns out to be useless in the end. 

The show ended, and I fled off stage, away from the spotlight and the crowd of blank faces, and back to the darkness. Behind the curtains, nobody knows who I am. Curled in on myself and took the time to try and free myself from all the knots I tied myself into. 

My heart’s beating to the beat of my feet, the ones that are taking me as far as I could possibly go. Away from here, away from you, away from what’s familiar. You made me famous, you made me known, you made me human. You made me cry, you made me hurt, you made me bleed. But I still look at the fallen petals on my dresser and wish you were here with me. 

I wish I could hate you. 

I wish you could hate me. 

Everything would be so much easier.