Disclaimer: I don't own any Marvel characters. The poetry and story are
mine.
No one walks these halls anymore.
My heart's been empty, perfectly ready for someone to come on in and call for it. But no one ever comes. No one ever trusts. No one ever trusts Remy the thief.
The moon is casting a shadow in these halls.
Remy made a mistake. Remy came back. Remy can't be trusted, he's made a mistake. They all think it, they just don't say it. I always wonder, do they think the same way about Logan's mistakes? How about Stormy's mistakes? How about the Prof.'s mistakes? They trust him like he's their frikken god. And he has a child that he disregarded and tried to blast the world or something. None of my business. Why is my mistake suddenly everyone's business?
These halls once shone with the rising sun.
Rogue's the worst of all. She's always like that, always like some vicious she-wolf, ready to tear your heart out. She won't forgive me until I forgive her. And vice versa. I'm not ready to be her fool again because of some crazy ideals that she has stored somewhere in her streaked head. She wants to be forgiven, she's got to forgive me first. I'm not going to go about under the idea that if I please everyone, they'll accept my apologies and excuses. I've got to have some backbone, even if it does get broken.
These halls were vibrant with the setting sun.
Stormy's pretty bad too. Yeah, she says she forgives, and I almost forgive her too. Almost. Can't quite understand why my lovely 'Ro would let me die in Antarctica. Can't quite understand why she expects me to know why. That's the problem with never talking about things. We have that "silent bond", she calls it. We don't talk, so we don't understand anything.
These halls are nothing but shadows now.
Dieu, I love Rogue, I know I do. But I aint ready to forgive and forget until she's ready. We've always been a bit out of step with each other, just a bit. We've got to synchronize, take one step at a time, not rush or procrastinate. That's means we have to change our entire way of thinking. Don't we always have to change? Nothing's perfect, and the harder we try the more botched up it all gets.
The shadows in these halls spell out words.
I mean, look at what me trying to make life a perfect, stereotypical, ideal, regular-joe life turned out to be. Forget the past, they say, you can't change it. Learn for the future. So I go along and forget the past, end up near dead with pneumonia or hypothermia or frostbite or some other cold-related ailment. Hypocrites.
"I lived and loved" say these halls.
It was cold in Antarctica. That's about all I remember, and probably all I want to. The other bits, bits and pieces, flashes of what I thought back there, I don't want to remember those. So I'll go and throw them in the Forget-It pile, then some nosy jerk will come poking around in that too and bring it back to haunt me. Probably some telepath. Dieu, I hate telepaths.
"And I was burned" say these halls.
I guess I'm staying with the hypocrites, for better or for worse. I'm so tired of fighting the system, I just want to lay down and let it sweep me away. Let them do what they want to me. I don't care anymore. Wounds only hurt the first time they're opened, unless they use salt.
"I can't go home" say these halls.
Bonne nuit, Rogue. I love you, even if you don't love me. I love you even if I think you're a filthy traitor and even if you think I'm a worthless liar. I won't let you down again, I promise. I won't let you fall, be it a mile or just a few feet. Just make me a promise and tell me that you'll catch me if I fall too. I love you, even if I hate myself for loving you, even if I get burned a thousand times by you. Just don't let me fall again. Please don't let me fall again. And because I'll never be able to say this to your face, I can only say it from the doorway to your room when you're sleeping. I love you. I won't let you fall. Don't let me fall either.
"Because she burned us" say these halls.
And the doors to these halls are locked
Because once someone moved through this same corridor somewhere in my heart
And once they were open to light and to everyone
But she walked down these halls and latched each window and braced each door
So now, somewhere in my heart
There is a broken window
And no one walks these halls anymore
No one walks these halls anymore.
My heart's been empty, perfectly ready for someone to come on in and call for it. But no one ever comes. No one ever trusts. No one ever trusts Remy the thief.
The moon is casting a shadow in these halls.
Remy made a mistake. Remy came back. Remy can't be trusted, he's made a mistake. They all think it, they just don't say it. I always wonder, do they think the same way about Logan's mistakes? How about Stormy's mistakes? How about the Prof.'s mistakes? They trust him like he's their frikken god. And he has a child that he disregarded and tried to blast the world or something. None of my business. Why is my mistake suddenly everyone's business?
These halls once shone with the rising sun.
Rogue's the worst of all. She's always like that, always like some vicious she-wolf, ready to tear your heart out. She won't forgive me until I forgive her. And vice versa. I'm not ready to be her fool again because of some crazy ideals that she has stored somewhere in her streaked head. She wants to be forgiven, she's got to forgive me first. I'm not going to go about under the idea that if I please everyone, they'll accept my apologies and excuses. I've got to have some backbone, even if it does get broken.
These halls were vibrant with the setting sun.
Stormy's pretty bad too. Yeah, she says she forgives, and I almost forgive her too. Almost. Can't quite understand why my lovely 'Ro would let me die in Antarctica. Can't quite understand why she expects me to know why. That's the problem with never talking about things. We have that "silent bond", she calls it. We don't talk, so we don't understand anything.
These halls are nothing but shadows now.
Dieu, I love Rogue, I know I do. But I aint ready to forgive and forget until she's ready. We've always been a bit out of step with each other, just a bit. We've got to synchronize, take one step at a time, not rush or procrastinate. That's means we have to change our entire way of thinking. Don't we always have to change? Nothing's perfect, and the harder we try the more botched up it all gets.
The shadows in these halls spell out words.
I mean, look at what me trying to make life a perfect, stereotypical, ideal, regular-joe life turned out to be. Forget the past, they say, you can't change it. Learn for the future. So I go along and forget the past, end up near dead with pneumonia or hypothermia or frostbite or some other cold-related ailment. Hypocrites.
"I lived and loved" say these halls.
It was cold in Antarctica. That's about all I remember, and probably all I want to. The other bits, bits and pieces, flashes of what I thought back there, I don't want to remember those. So I'll go and throw them in the Forget-It pile, then some nosy jerk will come poking around in that too and bring it back to haunt me. Probably some telepath. Dieu, I hate telepaths.
"And I was burned" say these halls.
I guess I'm staying with the hypocrites, for better or for worse. I'm so tired of fighting the system, I just want to lay down and let it sweep me away. Let them do what they want to me. I don't care anymore. Wounds only hurt the first time they're opened, unless they use salt.
"I can't go home" say these halls.
Bonne nuit, Rogue. I love you, even if you don't love me. I love you even if I think you're a filthy traitor and even if you think I'm a worthless liar. I won't let you down again, I promise. I won't let you fall, be it a mile or just a few feet. Just make me a promise and tell me that you'll catch me if I fall too. I love you, even if I hate myself for loving you, even if I get burned a thousand times by you. Just don't let me fall again. Please don't let me fall again. And because I'll never be able to say this to your face, I can only say it from the doorway to your room when you're sleeping. I love you. I won't let you fall. Don't let me fall either.
"Because she burned us" say these halls.
And the doors to these halls are locked
Because once someone moved through this same corridor somewhere in my heart
And once they were open to light and to everyone
But she walked down these halls and latched each window and braced each door
So now, somewhere in my heart
There is a broken window
And no one walks these halls anymore