Aphrodite

16

If all the world's a stage, then you, my dear, are its greatest actor.

You've suspended my disbelief for this long now.

How much longer can you keep me wondering?

I awaken on once-lonely nights to blaring lamps.

You walk tiptoed, as if I can't see.

For you, the show always goes on.

I told myself I didn't want to be an investigator,

But here I sit, scrolling through endless names and numbers.

Why should you care, anyway?

You've always checked on me. I should be able to do the same for you, my darling.

I can see right through your obsession with law, with order.

You call me neurotic, chide me, slap me without remorse.

I didn't know you could use your hands without mercy, without arousal heavy in the blow.

And you have the nerve to call me neurotic?

Perhaps I am, darling, or you're simply, fundamentally mistaken.

There isn't a trace of exhilaration in my body as we shower together.

Your hands are so tender and loving as they lather me head to toe in soap.

I find myself silent when you cup my ass.

"Don't be so suspicious, baby," you reassure me, your voice as foreign as the chill in my throat.

I can feel the wind changing, becoming colder.

You start bringing flowers every day.

It's too cold for these flowers, I mutter, snipping at the stems to relieve my anger.

We dance around a pole,

Never stopping, never meeting, chasing each other in vain.

You're so different; you're the same as ever.

I crave connection between our bodies,

But the puzzle we created doesn't fit.

You make sure we spend time trying to put it together, especially when it hurts like hell.

You want me to sing your anthems, your praises, your hymns,

But my voice has gone dry.

You'd think my tears would be enough to lubricate it, but nothing is enough.

You have too much pride to come down from this pedestal of yours.

I know you've earned your cloud on high.

Who am I to question that?

You point this out with booming words, with isolation.

I'm sorry, my darling.

I need a lesson in love, in trust.

Why won't you teach me, your only obsession?

Your only one?

All of your lectures and platitudes fade into dust.

I'm scared of your wrath,

But I'm terrified of your abandonment.

There's someone else, there must be.

Why else would you leave me so cold?

I haven't discovered a damn thing

Except for your conflicted, hypocritical jealousy.

Maybe that's enough evidence.

I didn't want picture you this way,

But duplicity infects your image.

I tell myself it's just an illusion, yet it's realer than your smile.

Your assurance is nothing but smoke,

Nothing but an act.

Well done, bravo. I wish you would finally break the fourth wall.

I still grope at the real truth, the whole truth,

The truth you used to swear by.

It's hard to search when your fury smashes through the holes in our reality.

As the taste of iron and rage flushes down my throat,

I try to bring myself out of this uncertain, trembling haze.

But I can't help but stay drawn into the brilliance of your show.