Prison Wall
It isn’t that she’s using you,
its that tomorrow you won’t exist,
until the next time she comes again to seek you,
that indescribable feeling,
sickeningly honest,
brutally blunt,
but refreshing, all the same.
A familiar lightness of your face,
makes her forget about the
harsh cruelty of the world,
and brings out the joy and playfulness,
that still reside somewhere inside her.
You're patient, she's not.
You give, she takes but she doesnt.
You've given her too much time,
in fact, you gave her so much more than time,
this isnt fair for you, she's not being fair to you,
welcome to the complexity den.
Are you in?
If nothing were to transpire,
you’ll both go on wondering what it could have been like,
to hold your very own ammunition,
and for a night,
fire rounds at the stars,
with no fear of restless retaliation.
Simple redemption,
sweet, lust-less, redemption,
because you’ve been through it all before,
you know what to expect,
so does she,
there are no lines left to cross,
no buttons previously left buttoned,
so a simple kiss won’t hurt anybody, will it?
After all,
she lives to revisit familiar lips,
unbridled affection,
exhilaration,
and you show up,
Again, and again, and again,
fuel to the fire,
another notch on temptation’s prison wall.
YOU ARE READING
Complexities
Random"At the periphery of dream and reality..." ♢ com·plex·i·ty ♢ plural com·plex·i·ties ♢ the quality or state of not being simple ♢ a part of something that is complicated or hard to understand ♢ A Scribber's Thought version 2.0
