Standstill.

Frozen

Paralysis

Induced by shock

The explosive

Detonated

Or so it seems.

Why?

A simple

Not

Question.

How did it come to this?

Indeed

It was a long journey

A perilous trek

Through jungles

Of illusions

Swamps

Of lies

Traipsing haphazardly

In the dark

Guided by a faint light

Seeking

Hoping.

It was poetic.

A connection

Thin ribbon

Between two souls

Illogical

Incomprehensible

A gruesome combination

Mixing black and white

Never produce

Bright colors.

Reminisce

Look back

Figurative footsteps

But

Two.

Once

He walked

Alone

But he found

A companion

And for a moment

It seemed better.

Like a candle in the dark.

Candle and the dark?

Perhaps

His dead-fish eyes

Saw the world

Through

Undead visions

Monotonous

Cold

Cynical.

With her

He could see

If only for a bit

Clearer.

If only.

All those years ago

Alternative answer

Produce a different

Color.

Deep inside

Under layers

Bitter memories

Painful lessons

Still

He was simply

Just another boy.

He did not choose cynicism.

Cynicism chose him.

Once bitten

Twice shy

Man is a blank canvas

But he does not

Paint himself.

Nature is always the artist.

We are but canvas.

Different colors

Denote

Personality

Character

Shades

How bright the smile

How dark the tears.

He was cursed

Blessed

His bright colors

Splashed over

With black and white

Cold hues

The only consolation

They were real.

Are they?

Smile

Like paint

Fades.

Heat and rain

Come hell

High water

Life will make

Or break

A man.

The recipe for a cynic.

Mix rejection

Depression

Acceptance

Cold logic

And a chronic hatred

For youth.

He had forgotten

But now

Remember

Like a projectile

Finally penetrating

The presumptive barrier

In his mind

Realization

All this time

He had fawned over

This relationship

False satisfaction

Deception.

All this time

Simply

A measly deal

With the fire queen.

A friendship

Forged in pain and delusion

Hastily constructed

Heat of the moment

A blatant lie

Another illusion.

This relationship

Like a drug

Stave off insanity

Because the antidote

He did not deserve

Always

Out of reach.

A placebo

He deceived himself

Believing to be true

When the truth

He was still plagued

Slow-induced poisons

And she was the delay

Never the cure.

Truth may be a lie.

One that we choose to believe in.

A man

Such as he

Never deserved

Such privilege.

Friendship is a privilege.

One that is reserved for the few.

Do not forget

His methods

Modus operandi

Dogma by which he lived

A self-destructive

Counter-productive

Cynical

Rotten

Cold

Logic.

Two figures

Black ice

Sweet fruit

Playing in his mind

A repetitive tape

Now a nightmare.

He loved them.

If he could

If.

That ideal

That privilege

Alas

It cannot be.

He who does not have compassion

Does not deserve compassion.

Quite a wretched philosophy

Yet it had a point

Albeit

Razor sharp.

But her?

A beautiful face

Emerald green

Golden blonde

Like fine silk

A sculpture of perfection

Her skin

Like porcelain

A figurine

Excellent.

But

Like a display

Look

Not touch.

She was certainly a work of art.

Thus

He cannot

But look

Behind

A figurative glass.

She was a mirage.

Too good

To be true.

Did he love her?

Yes

But actually

No?

Admiration.

That may be a good word to put it.

Genuine?

Perhaps

Another lie

He chose to believe

Because he too

The loner

The cynic

Runs away.

Genuine?

Bullshit.

Who am I kidding?

A fancy word

In other words

He was being

Picky.

Like a child

Selective

Only the brightest pieces

When all of it

The same sweet

Or bitter

Chocolates.

Cherry-picking

Truth or lie

Genuine

Can

Possibly

Perhaps is

Anything.

Should it be a reason to make an innocent girl cry?

Perhaps not.

Chase after her!