i don't know

"i dont’ know who you are anymore,” soft sounds of fraud's mouth, “i don’t know where my baby is."

i smile, and i edge close to him, “it’s the same me as ever, sweet love, and i am nobody’s baby anymore.”

unseen to seen, how i've been changing. he'll never know who i want to be if he doesn't look in a mirror.

i am such; his drag and his charity; co-dependently and chained; so, we may only live as the other's noose.

he's my unrequited love; my heart's eclipse. sun can't see what lives in its shadow, or anything in the dark.

he wails a crocodile’s sob, dry-faucetted as the sahara, “you hurt me to my core,” still tater-totting false tears.

“i don’t want to be your everything, your reason for living,” i let the words hang, “not if the cost is me.”

leaving no room for doubt, i take my act travelling, kicking rocks when i turn to look back at what’s left.

i walk away, hated now. darkened skies built between for all the love, rave, and rage we fought to have.

never could help but see inside his window of a house, stained and broken, before the chance to throw stones.