i handed you my broken heart
and you said you understood.
i asked if you could fix it
you touched my face with a smile
and said you would.

shall we dance?
letting you drag me deeper
into fantasy and our distorted romance.
you didn't seem to realize
that such a long caress
could leave such a nasty mess.

after all was done
you took off
and i watched you run.
you left a note that read:
"a broken heart's in style "darling",
rip it open, bleed your red,
wear it on your sleeve
it'll be okay when you are soon 
dead."

then you yelled "it's not you 'baby',
it's me."
in much the same way "you like me,
but you don't."
to me it seems more
that you just won't..
running off with you're friends
i hear your voice and the laughter fading
as you so proudly gloat..

love michelle