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Martyr
I was swimming in a Cerulean Sky
…sweet sweet agony….
That flash of white.
Your smile…
And then the Blue.
Oh, that Blue.
Your sugary strokes on strings…
A song about an Idiot.
I was that Idiot, wasn’t I?
You continued to shoot my Life.
You. Looked. At. Me.
How could you do it?
Your adoration was my Fountain of Youth.
I had to drink from it.
You knew I loved you?
Saturating my finger with ember kisses,
Feathering soft breaths across my psyche…
Playing a game of Hide and Seek
I could’ve been Emma… you were Gerard.
You sang to me.
We wanted to go to Chicago.
Roxy. Roxy. Roxy.
All I really knew was that Cobalt.
Your Azure.
The paths down that sapphire death.
My Death.
Planning to slip the golden noose
Round and Round my sunburned neck.
You tugged until I was choked to your spirit.
My Death.
I told you what I wanted.
Wanting to get away.
You said we’d go on your Uncle’s plane.
Ireland and beyond.
You pulled my heartstrings like a puppet’s threads.
And made me worship your Surf God.
And I went, like you told me, to Ruin.
Poor and destitute
when you played
your tricks on another
making me
your martyr.
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