I'm Not Above Emo Poetry, I'm Actually Quite Below It

Bittersweet is realization, sudden understanding that if you were with your friends at a party, they'd all leave you the moment a man walks past.

Rolling off your tights and reviewing the night, it was never you they were there for.

I am others escape, and while providing refuge I reveal the hidden caches of emotion I believe they seek. It is too soon I realize their existence in my proximity is convenience for them, and it is too late before I realize the cost to myself.

It is a slow lesson of learning to safeguard, remind yourself every day to not let frauds in the safe. Through the blue stained glass everyone is a fraud, so it is best to keep a steel-trap, bear-trap, blaring alarm that prevents any information from seeping out of your mouth

They wouldn't care anyway-- It'd only be ammunition against me in the eventual fall out.

When they evacuate the shelter of my presence, when they move on to whatever it is they truly want, they will send an airstrike to destroy all evidence of their being there. I will suffer and wipe the slate, the gray-scape wasteland that may never grow life again permanent in my mind.

Then I meet someone new, and a sliver of green arises among the silver coated ground. Walls are built to shelter my secrets, but it won't be long before the barriers are invaded and the cycle starts again.