Don't Blink

Happily ever after.
You can't tell me you don't see it,

feel the
pressure threatening to
explode
your internal pulsate.
(Hear the snapshot)
flash exposing all your
not-so-little
white lies.
But I'd rather dip my brush,
And paint them
blue (for tears they cause)
'Cause that's what the world
would've said
(and done.)
That's your obvious innuendo:
To be caught red
handed.
Can't get out of the color-craze,
(swing, baby, swing to the
disco ball in the sky.)
Only then can you
escape yourself.
Holding on and
Held down.
By your very own hands.
Some things can't be fixed,
but we'll have given up
at that point.
And we'll title this
tomorrow; identified
by the eyes that see through
The mirror you couldn't suppress,
The distorted reflection you feel

(is me,)
a pseudo-knight in shining armor.

Chivalry isn't your obvious forte,
No please, pretty please.

I must confess you beg,
and it's not too..
charming.
Two cubes of sugar, if you may,
with spellbound deception
(to taste.)
Another chapter you skimmed through,
but
then again,
a watched pot never boils.
But I wouldn’t put it past you
to break the
concrete.
At least it isn't coal
under the tree ---
(This year.)
Only because the gaseous sphere shone
too bright.
Unconcealed, you crumble.
(It is obligatory,)
no one laughs at your antics,
Anymore.
Blame it on being
intoxicated.
Bring you back to the dancing days,
so you can block out (my
sadistic tone.)
Just up the shutters and force
the fairy tale,
(that is not life,)

To begin.
Another ridiculous damsel in distress.

Protect you,
From yourself.

Sometimes I'm petrified,
(and to be redundant) horrified,
that you'll reach
The last page --- The End.
And what you expected will
come.
Just a little morbid, but there's no
graves to dig up,
(not this time.)
You can't blame me for the fact,
you haven't learned,
To love yourself yet.
Starve me and call me fat, then
Whip open blinds and let the
light blind us.
(Can you handle that?)
But I am your partner,
in crime. Or am I
a double-agent?
Are your eyes burning, or is it
a trick of my
imagination?
The static we hear is only
synthetic.
Grin in spite of ourselves.
We believe the,
not-so-little
white lies,
(When we say it enough.)

Then we'll both drop dead,
Once upon a time.