she was the act and

the script was short and

it was so easy

"do you believe you are

in love with me?"

followed by the lie

you always told

it only fooled one person

and that one was never you.

it was the subtle press of

breast to chest

that drew you in;

it was almost hopeless to resist.

it was the color of her scarlet lips

and the dress you loved the best

that carried you away;

it reminded you of sin.

she was your deliverance

from the toxic waste

inside your soul and

if you live in black and white

and dream in technicolor

who can blame you

for sleeping inside of her?

there was a moment where you

had a choice between

the darkness and the light

you chose the first because

the road less taken

is just a poem someone wrote.

she was an opened door for you

spread wide to let you in

because misery is better

with lovely company-

it almost made you feel at home.

and so you were consumed

by the death you'd always loved;

you shoved your lips to hers

and burned yourself away.

you got lost inside her skin

and the warmth reminded you

of being safe.

and if resistance is just another word

for weakness,

then you were strong.