i don't need to ask if we will tire of this same old routine. two strangers perched on opposite ends of a couch, fingers splayed over our mouths in a mockery. we can always persist valiantly in our attempts to salvage something so broken; after all, it's only what we've been hammering at for months on end. again we'll discreetly nudge our mess underneath the rug like guilty, panic-stricken children, eyes fixed on anything else but the growing mound. as if i haven't avoided your accusatory glances enough, as if you haven't already tried countless times to reel me in, as if i could take anymore of you. abject as you were... i can only tell you to let me be now. no matter how hard you push and knead and pound, you can't mould us back into your ideal.

if you used to fit me like a glove, the glove must have stretched and contorted from all those thrown punches. it only hangs limply now. i've outgrown you. i've outgrown you.

offbeat

when you turn to me
it is because i can never tell the difference
between your smile and your grimace
it is because i can already feel myself
losing grip

that i cannot meet your eyes still

we commence our
slow crawl through empty pages
or a monotonous mechanic march
take cold comfort in our laced fingers
in the rhythm of your footfalls
steady and sure so unlike
the erratic sounding of my heart
lodged unnaturally in my chest

the fit as though it were not mine
only a stray jigsaw piece forcefully
jammed into the lacking whole
by a rash and maladroit hand

(easily substitutable, so you may)

NO, YOU KNOW WHAT. I AM SICK OF THIS.

THIS IS JUST RIDICULOUS BEYOND WORDS.

I can't appease - yes, appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease appease anyone anymore. Relentless barrage from both ends and I am SICK.

If there's one thing I know, it's that I don't deserve to be scrutinised. Not like this. I wouldn't mind running in circles for any of you as long as it made you happy, you know that. But bloody hell, there's only so much I can stretch without snapping, okay? I don't want to be caught in this. I'm really tired. Bone-tired.