my fury friend (in hate with you)

burst balloons are not all they're
cracked up to be.

it's like: when your lungs crush down like paper bags
(bereft of their air)
like that, but not with lungs, with pieces of rubber
that can't be recognised as the bright bursting bulbs
you held before.

it's the same with hearbreak. they make it romantic, like:
look at her there
with her friends and her chocolates
and her sad, mussed up hair
look at her rise up
look at her cry up a storm
and look as they all gather round
and piece her back together.

it's like that, without the chocolates or friends
and i've looked at my hair
and my hair looks fine
and i've looked at my face, my face doesn't mind
tears scald when i try to cry them at all

pride doesn't come before elegant fall

it's like: when the president leaves the room
they mill around some, they chatter and boom
opinions, but then. they leave. until the point comes
and speaks again, until they have reason to be again

it's like that, only with me
in this dark
and when you were there, and the things that you said
the heart overblown,
dead pieces of rubber
occasional shudders,

it's like that. only i don't say a thing
i watch as ever, i see her voice ring
through your eyes like a sunbeam
and i hate you so
that i can hate you
first. this way, it's not like i got hurt.