the stories we leave half written pt. 1

how did we get here? how did it come to this?
when did greeting one another so formally
become a thing,
and why do you still look at me with that face?
you know the one,
the same face you would make at me from across the room,
when your eyes spoke the language of love
and you could write a trilogy out of just one look.
you still hinting at
unresolved issues,
and me falling into another trap.
how many times must we play this game? how many lies do we tell ourselves
in order to justify the life we’ve chosen
which was what we never wanted.

we settled and yet we didn’t.
playing for keeps
but nobody comes out victorious
because we both know we’ll leave separately
and with the people we’re building glass houses with.

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