The Way It's Supposed To Be
Every night before bed,
she sets her heart on fire.
Letting all her love cauterize,
clotting the flow of her need.
She would rather be infected
by pain than play the same
monotonous game with
a boy that can't help but
pour gasoline on her wounds.
The burn;
A reminder that he was there.
She'll never forget his kiss,
because there are scars
imprinted on her cheeks
that speak of nights drenched
in miserable unity.
They fed off each other's
complacency.
Drank each other's naivety
and laid in a bed of neglect.
Hoping for someone to
pull up the sheets,
so they could sleep
and dream of love.
The way it's supposed to be.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved
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