In the corner, by the door

Tonight, like the last, I thought too much
My mind the enemy like too many times before
The candle by my bed burned out long ago
And somehow I find myself sitting on the floor
In the corner,like I’ve always known
That safe place I always retreat
My head plays tricks on me tonight
In the silent dark, I admit defeat.

Tears flow, the pain won’t end
I sing a song but I can’t sleep
I sit in the corner, cigarette in my hand
Fragments of poems laying around my feet
Too many words, too many lies
When all I need is to hear the truth
Too many heartbreaks, too many times
Too many thoughts of losing you.

My head full of thoughts I’d rather not think
Crippled with images I’d rather not see
Playing like a movie with no happy ending
You and her, when it should be you and me
Sick imagery I can’t forget
Burned forever on my heart and soul
Disappears when you hold my close
But tonight, again, I am alone.

And nights like this, I can hear the rain
I can convince myself it’s all falling apart
I can miss your skin and your breath more than ever
I can feel the cracking of my heart
Once again tonight, I fall from grace
Sitting in the corner, by the door
Heart weighing heavy and thoughts of you
As I sit here, alone on the floor.

These are my words, all I can offer
My prayer to you and all I held dear
This is my heart and these are my feelings
My pain, my heartache, my loneliness, my fear
I close my eyes and count to ten
But it’s not a dream and I can’t undo
All the wrongs I caused unwittingly
All the pain I caused to you.

Tonight, like the last, I’m wide awake
In the corner, by the door
Can’t shake the pictures, those sick lullabies
Can’t shake the feeling you might have wanted more.

(c) 2008

Knowing your fiancé is cheating on you is a strange feeling. Painful, more painful than anything I ever imagined, and somewhat desolate. You feel alone, because even the person closest to you has turned to somebody else for whatever you can no longer give. Yet he still wants to be with you. He wants to be with her, too. He wants to have his cake and eat it, and because you can’t imagine how you’d ever survive without him in your life, you let it happen. You cry and scream when you find evidence of her in his bedroom – a picture she drew for him (what, is she like 12?) or a curly, long, brown hair on his pillow – but you still accept his kisses and let him make promises because he’s all you have. 

And you don’t want her to win. You want to be better than her – a better girlfriend, better in bed, a better person in general – but eventually you can’t fight anymore. She wins. He runs to her. 

Then back to you.

To her.

To you.

For months. And you let it happen. 

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