FloodGates

I did tell the world of who he was and what he meant to me.I did fight a war without a seemingly logical reason. I did. And I do realize that I never really loved him.
Yet, I seem to be doing the same mistake all over again.
Because as real as these could be, the truth remains that none of them are quite existent - except in that lopsided universe i have given birth to with such beautiful imaginations that almost always never did come true -nor were as sweet as whatever really happened.
My sentimental love seat is a mess, i sit there alone. And all the seemingly perfect princes either stood up, walked away or only stayed for the sake of their own borrowed and illegal affection of this totally complicated nocturnal b.i.t.c.h.
I woke up this morning, in the usual trance of everyday. To be swept away to the daydreams as he chose to mold and sketch the artwork of his subconsciously adulterous heart. And i temporarily dwell in the whirlpool of secret glances and unspoken words.
The depth of one thing as twisted as this is a question that would take tons of revelations. Or maybe, never ever realized as bridges break and are left uncrossed.
Because someone else has been taking the seat next to him, and walks along the songs of the pornographic saxophone. And him not pulling away is a bullet that my proud, sarcastic shield burns to ashes - left to the shadows, where I heal the scorching wounds of the gun powder that penetrated my skin, in secrecy - because none of them would have chosen to understand.
The floodgates have been opened, and some time ago, i would have drowned in the sham of preconceived confessions and serenades - but the thorns have gripped me hard enough to the shore.
Yet, even the scratches couldn’t stop me from swimming back again to the sea.
Because the painful stings heal me, and the death I’ve found in this sinful drowning - bathed in his poison-antidote, is a resurrection - sealed inside the shortest of all eternities.