with all your glorious flowering self-deception ~
your words are glowing embers
and your tongue stokes the fire
that engulfs me like paper
but I think
it fills the void inside of you.
how does it feel to sleep
with the lies you’ve fashioned from the flames?
some may wonder how you sleep at all
but I think they keep you warm at night.
your words are a glass tower that you pretend is opaque,
you can’t hide from this
or anything –
smoke is filling your lungs,
I wonder how long you can go on breathing.
and I see cracks in the surface of your fortress
and tears in the fabric of your being,
and I’d dare you to look in the mirror
but I know
that all you would know what to do
is to turn it back toward everyone else,
as you remain nothing more
than a cold reflection
of anyone else