Paper Doll
I lie awake at night counting the treasures I've given that weren't mine to give and the irreplaceable sparks I will steal from you before morning's light.
It's done, I'm doomed, the curse is cast and I've damned you with a kiss. I will drown in the guilt, and maybe that's what I want.
You're starting to know, and you'll hate me to tell you but you'll say to yourself it's better than being alone; my lies lay with yours so easily, don't they?
There are promises printed on my lips, but they aren't there for you. I wish that they would be, but those years I keep locked in a box are mine to endure.
I think, "If only I were real, I would feel the regret I'm writing right now."
If only I were real, I'd give you the world; but I'm only a paper, doll, pasted over your wall; that's how you'll know you're dreaming. Once the windows are open, the wind will rend me until I'm torn and broken.
Oh, who am I kidding? Why am I here? How do I manage to convince myself it's enough up until the one moment when I know it's not? Is the veil a habit, a mask, a need or a weakness? When will I be able to tear it away for the face beneath?
When my skin won't rip and my eyes don't tear.
A clever answer, clothing the naked need in a trainwreck smile. The truth is, I'm here for the safety and the knowing who reads our secret language.
Sometimes I still see the world we once inhabited dancing behind my eyelids, when I'm waiting for him to fall asleep; a world of endless night, songs for my soul and someone who understands just what I mean.
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