the burnt offerings of self (.renewal.)

i think i've written everything i was meant to write. my pen is dry. i strive to recall the words that long served as my only companion... to no avail. is this a weakness? my eyes tremble at my failure. is this some payment (long overdue) for my list of crimes? the ring of scars i left untended? i don't mean to die, but it's not as though i always have a choice...

i'll find out how to love you without you loving me in return. of my passion, i'll make a play, and you'll learn to feel by watching, learn to sing by hearing, and learn to hate as you slowly understand. when i run from all of this, i'll try not to leave a stain... but keep in mind the cleansing power of forgetfullness. tomorrow is my wish.. but without a star, how do i find the way? the games we've played took my everything, and made of it a gun. toothless and numb, i fight to send you a why, a how, the must of my demise... but slowly, silence consumes, and the long-forgotten taste of my own tears brings me to my knees, at your feet. don't view this as weakness. don't see in my (watery) sparkling eyes a way to say you've loved. i gave of myself too deeply, and now the shell is gone, the once-truths (all half-truths) lay shattered, forgotten. this dry dusty lie of my childhood now stands before you, bleeding, broken, released... a victim of the oldest games played in the newest ways.

don't you DARE cry. this is an ending... because to begin, one must clean the slate. erase the history. of my deceit, we'll make a fire. of my love, we'll make stars, lest the fire become our everything. of my story, we'll make song, that around the fire we may dance. and, in dancing, let us forget all failure, let us forget all transgressions, all emotion and apathy, as though they were one and the same. and let us make new stories in our dancing, and of them make new stars, that long before the dance should end, our story will be so bright, we blind ourselves with our own displays of love. what is yesterday? let it be as nothing... nothing now matters but the here, the dance, the eternal entwining and communion of our (reinvented) souls.