Burning the circus down

A sweet parade that rolls in from somewhere we’ve both known before.
The turpentine love is everywhere, seeping into cracks we thought we’d patched and sealed.
Flags are flying that signal everything from alarms to the falling of arms, a serenade of surrender.
A day like any other.
Your friend’s gather, ready to pick up what has been sold over to you and to count the spoils of war.
Those that revel in you acquired freedom, ready to fuck the victory.
Your eyes are all over, counting faces and seeking out the wrong to fall head into.
The fanfares begin and the lions roar their procession of emotions.
I stand in the middle, decorated in the best I can be. My hair out of place and my heart in my hands.
The crowd cheers, the revolver found its way so quickly into your hands.
Placed by someone, or there all along?
The pump from the heart and the blood gushes out, red and chunks of blackness: by-products of the ego.
You eyebrows raise, the ‘I knew’ mask covers your face to a perfect fit.
The music dies, and I run. The death of me will not come from your fingertips.
You find me in the forest, my secret place. God you know me too well.
Kissing their lips you kill me over and over in a million heartbeats.
Then I’m alone.
Fumble in my pockets for the ticket, an emotion or a cry for help.
But the circus has left town.
Yet unknown to me, it burned to the ground.
You stand there smoking.
All I’ll ever be.

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