You.
You stand there, eyes open, glaring. You can’t understand what I’m saying. Why I’m saying it. All you know is what you want. What you need.
You can’t hear me. And don’t know how to listen. You twist and you turn my heart, make me cry and beg for mercy. You don’t stop because its what. You do best.
Your words are daggers. You spit them out. Like fire out of a dragon, cursing and hissing until I’m burnt. Alive.
You.
You say you love me. Want me. Need me. Is there a difference?
You’ve always demanded, never asked. Never begged. Like I’m begging you. Spare me.
But your love, your anger, is all consuming. I’m struck blind. You wrap me up, fold me, until I’m no longer myself. But a part of you.
You can’t see. What you do to me.
Me.
I’m not perfect and I can’t keep trying. I inflict pain with every word, every kiss, every breath. I don’t know why.
I’m no beauty. Is that why you’re ashamed of me?
I dance in circles around you, the flames licking my feet. I cry out in anguish, beg you to save me, but you are too busy. Saving yourself.
We.
We are selfish and proud. We love and we hate. We dance as the world burns around us, caught in the flames, the passion, the anger, the agony.
The world doesn’t end in fire nor in ice. But it will suffice.
In the end, its just you and me.