and I feel like a child on Christmas morning
every time I see you nailed to the concrete.
I'd be lying if I said I'd felt no joy in the moment
your eyes rolled back into your empty head.
And when you faded to gray, the best gift
was when you left me staring at the stark whites.
You always reminded me of winter - even when
you weren't anyone, anymore.
I was deliberate and I was not someone who chose randomly.
I told you that the night we met.
We walked the streets lined with the sparkle
your footprints left and when you smiled,
it made me want to claw myself blind,
having that become the last thing I saw.
When I asked if I could break you,
you turned to me and laughed,
"Try your best."
It was such a beautiful sound - a shade higher
than your actual voice, giving it a coating of childhood
innocence that couldn't be faked.
Maybe you were a child in some of those places
you invited me into.
... but if there were doubts regarding the truth
of you inward age, your eyes erased every single one of them.
Your darkest secrets were held in those
beautiful little prisons.
(I wanted to set them free.)
And the thought - breaking you to fix you - sent
something inside of me into a tailspin.
I couldn't tell you right away.
I didn't know how to tell you that what started
as a daydream slowly became an obsession that eventually
formed into a plan of your undoing.
Try my best...
If I asked you now, I have to wonder if you'd
Were you really ready for it?
See, you were looking the shut-down.
I was not.
What I wanted was your absolution yielding into
forced humility - yielding to me.
No - this wasn't just a coin toss.
This was a bet.
And you lost.