Behind the Curtain

In shambling rot, decay of sorts

A listless heart is dying

Rusted at the edges by briny tears and too much time alone "to breathe"

It's what he said I need...

Pointed fingers, jagged words

They weave a crooked path into my brain

Finding residence among the remains of yesterdays I've yet to replay

So much darkness in the light of day

I am not whole, not incomplete

A continuation of thoughts repeat

Like story books they painted pictures

Never ending love that features

A charming prince, a rescued dame

But that is just a child's game

To play pretend, pretend until

The truth and lies are blended well

And love becomes a blessed burden

Where we never look behind the curtain...