Paper Planes and Rubix Cubes

You’re enjoying this...

I think that's what hurts the most.

The smile on your fingertips
As they forcibly lace into my hair
The comfort of the bed-side
Holding me unbreakably
As I am covered in a knife called kisses.

These bones, like paper planes
Leave nothing but dreams and paper-cuts
As the Rubix Cube of my mind
Is colored in black and white
Endlessly being picked apart at your leisure.

You'll never understand.

Then again,
It's not like you're trying to.

I want to run away from you
But these feet were made dancing
And certainty not for back-tracking
I have been watching the waltz for so long
I can barley count the rhythms
Of my own heartbeat.

One
.
.
Two
.
.
Three
.
.
It's disgusting.

These paper planes can't fly,
They can only jump and hide.

I don't hide,
I can't hide,
I won't hide.

There is nowhere to hide.

Because the facts are that monster don't live under the bed,
They're lying next to you in bed.

And I'm just glad you’re not a necrophilia,
Just an insomniac.

I've stopped sleeping.
And with that, dreaming.
Because it has gotten to the point were
I can't tell the deference between
Nightmares and Reality
And dreams are just hints of the future
That don't look too bright for either of us.

Please.

I'm not going to fight you,
Because fighting is immature;
And I'm not going to kill myself
Because suicide is selfish.

I'm not going to talk
Because selling out is weak.

I can't do anything....


And it hurts that you enjoy that.