page 2: "i want you to hate me like i need an axe in my back"
page 3: "the kitchenette ballerina"
page 4: "i whiped away my complex series of mirrors"
the look at her face on the door
a series of mirrors and you saw it
she collapsed knowing
and tap tap tapped all night long
to the man who would keep her
when all of the others had fled in disgust
suddenly she knew that her old heart was over
and weighed her record player needle appropriately.
I want you to hate me like I need an axe in my back
Stay so
But please don't go
It's those ballroom fables that set me up for distrust
Because really, who was always the victim?
The one who spent a hundred years getting to know the cobwebs
Hell, I can do that alone
As a child I would objectively imagine the mass of that missplaced energy
And here's what seals the deal-
I can't afford your time to waste
I melt mirrors and you have a beautiful face.
The kitchenette ballerina
With the far-away stare
Touches her face lightly and tells you everything
Meanwhile, you are not in the room.
I whiped away my complex series of mirrors
in favour of the occasional dream in which I see your face;
where I can witness again the way your expression would light up when
I laughed
at the ridiculous things you believed would save us,
and the way I glowed in the reflection of your eyes
believing them too.