Cuckoo

Standard

Saw the way you reached for me like the time hadn’t flown like chameleon from the cuckoo’s nest,
The pause in your headlights and my shrugging shoulders were our dance of denial at its very best.
What troubles me most is there’s hints of your knowledge that I dissect into a thousand shreds,
Yet nothing moves forward and I’m left in limbo replaying each moment and every word said.
I fool myself over, pretending I don’t care, then spend the night drowning myself in my dreams,
On a good day waking feeling I’ve swallowed poison, and a bad one I’ve scratched myself raw at the seams.
A tree isn’t silent when alone in forests; you’re not on the frequency to hear my screams.
And though I can’t blame you for existing without me, this knife edge you’ve got me on glistens and gleams.
I’ve carved myself this path and I must crawl on it, picking shards of glass out from my palms and knees.
Fragments that splinter like all my intentions, refracting light on my jealousy and good deeds.
The angel and devil perched on each my of shoulders have whispers of advice that I’ll never heed.
If you’d just be consistent, leave me altogether, from this torment perhaps I would finally be freed.

Cuckoo

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