handcoversbruise
I got tangled in your legs. In the sheets under the sunrise. In your Goldilocks hair. In your beige summer gown. In my own desperate hope for Happily Ever After. In your little white lies.
And now I'm tangled, tangled beyond release. Tangled in this utopia I created for the two of us.
You've always been a coward. Always hiding behind a sneering mask, pretending to feel nothing but malice. Everything you do and say is an imitation of what your father has taught you, even though his way of life is nothing you want to share.
Your whole life is a lie, and nobody sees it.
You're too afraid of feeling something positive, actually enjoying life for a moment, because you know it'll be just that - a moment. That noone on this side of war can be happy has been proven to you enough times, and so you cower from anything that could make all this pain acceptable.