You need the last laugh.
So here you go,
Muse.
Bet the chase feels good,
I might have been that moon,
but I never took a step.
You were my world.
Self Centered
I think you want me to hate you.
I'm trying
to fit into that list
the ones you wrote poems about
maybe.
Consider me irrelevant
and blame me for caring too much.
I know I do
you should just admit it.
Stick to the plan.
Last poem, last line.
Ruin it all. Congratulations,
I can only punch walls,
and you should be happy.
Got what you wanted-
get in where you fit in
get it in you.
Got it out of me.
Blood, guilt and forgiveness.
Congratulations.
This is why I don't fucking take chances-
I'm done.
I guess what they did to you
you did to me.
How does it feel?
Love. Leave. Hate. Regret.
I'll be a victim for you.
Tell me I deserve it.
Maybe my something wasn't big enough.
Maybe I just don't know how to play your game.
Maybe I'm too easy for you.
I don't know, my guess is as good as yours.
I'm on the wrong track-
and history is stuck on repeat.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
I believed it, yep.
This Déjà vu is traceable;
Could've sworn it's a place you
said you wouldn't take me to.
Look at me now,
chain smoking at the bus stop to who gives a fuck.
Trust me, I can be replaced.
You have what you need,
they care about you
they can relate to you
inside jokes and break up stories.
Should've known you would sear me.
You're empty on the inside
and I'm a bit too old for imaginary friends.
But I guess I just
couldn't maneuver between your shadow's past
It still lingers like hang over(cast).
I can't contain what is pliable in my aftershock
So I trembled
When you put the "Her" in hurt.
Extinguished my sun
In silent treatment.
Even your voice rings with the sound of Latin haughty
"Why don't you write a poem about it?"
So…
I did.
Maybe that will stretch out the twilight.
You've grown flagrant in your fantasy,
hold your breath and it might never end.
I felt it-
you followed the paradigm of heart failures
with your lack of hesitation.
Now I'm strained around broken promises.
Thoughts anchored to my tongue
will never express
how the nausea in my skin writhes when you're close.
Maybe it's the glance of a life forgetting itself
That you only show when you feel like you might not be good enough
But that's not to be pushed on anyone else
Especially when you never had a will to fight
your self proclaimed weakness.
I feel plenty of shame for being fooled once,
But I just wish, that you hadn't proved them right.
Trust me, you don't need a horizon-
You'll set in this stilled vodka.
And in the neglected months, I would be the chaser.
I believe you
When you say you're sorry
So your glass may be half full
but that moon is half empty.
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