Porcelain

I am no longer your prisoner, release me from your lock and key. Your sombre smile sets the perfect tone for animosity. I stood by your side, offered you my umbrella when it rained. Yet you still chose to twist my words, and now our love is sprained. Stained, like the collar of your shirt from lips that went unnamed. Your behaviour went unexplained, as you created lies to carry you over, assuming they would stop the pain. Together, we were capable of total world domination; instead, you swallowed me and spit me out, acted as if I were an abomination. I gave you my tears, let them fall into your wishing well. Only to find myself the sole occupant of heartbreak's hotel. You were always a rebel, but one without a clue; my heart's library is closed to you, as your payment is long overdue. I can no longer priovide you with a heart to call your home, I refuse to forge another page of love to fill your tome. I simply regret that you were the one to ever love me best. I beat my chest, as my cries resonate throughout the sky. You were like porcelain, beautiful from the very first day. I am vile and bloodstained, the product of a life filled with disarray. Damaged now, I bandage my wounds and disavow the strife that I must sow. I run through the streets like a fool in heat, screaming your holy name, so indiscrete. Why must I try so hard to simplify our lives? Like the lost Stepford wives, your hunger for control cut like the sharpest knives. You punctured my spirit, and poisoned my garden; I am no longer capable of sustaining life. Like the pied piper, you led me astray, using your charisma whilst playing your fife. I can no longer pretend that my head rules my heart, especially when the future seems grim, and dark. You have made your mark, left me jaded in a warehouse of commodities. When I was with you, I was an anomaly, shining brightly in the sun. Now I run, from everything and everyone; scared to face the world, so I reclusively watch life pass me by. You cracked your whip as I silently sputter hate filled words that I have churned like butter. Waiting for the day when my saviour will return, to free me from my misery, and reignite the fire that once burned. I lie awake at night, watching the tide ebb and flow, hoping and praying that one day you will silence my woes. Recklessly abandoned in a tower built by my own grief, I have not given up on the belief that you will be the bearer of my long awaited relief.