The Way It's Supposed To Be

Every night before bed, she sets her heart on fire. Letting all her love cauterize, clotting the flow of her need. She would rather be infected by pain than play the same monotonous game with a boy that can't help but pour gasoline on her wounds. The burn; A reminder that he was there. She'll never forget his kiss, because there are scars imprinted on her cheeks that speak of nights drenched in miserable unity. They fed off each other's complacency. Drank each other's naivety and laid in a bed of neglect. Hoping for someone to pull up the sheets, so they could sleep and dream of love. The way it's supposed to be. -James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved