Title (Optional)

My edges are tearing at the seams

My senses are shell-shocked & that pressure is past the point of boiling, rising steam has begun billowing scalding hot clouds out of every cell of my humanoid form.

This is how I lose control of my own constructive chaos

This is how far I could go, how quickly I could stop. 

Stop. 

I could not stop. 

I never wanted too, you see, as finally I had found something to live for. 

Something that could never tell me it does not love me any longer, could never say that they had left a note, their set of keys & my heart on the kitchen bench. 

This is what it looks like when you’re playing for keeps.

© AleCat 2013

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