Wasting Away On Hollow Words

Tangled and fighting to stay awake because the fingertips along my spine are telling me it's okay to drift.

I must have.

Their spark is gone and all I have is the dim poison they left in my blood, undeniably toxic but not lethal. 

Don't torment yourself dearest, I'll survive your warm eyes and chapped lips grazing at my jaw line and ready to strike. My resistant limbs are hanging by strings and you're just putting on a show. Stuffed and bursting at the seams because I can't even choke out that I'm the one in control, but you're holding the scissors to cut me down. I don't care how high you have me off the stage, let me fall like the pennies I threw in the wells, all with the wish to forget you.

Magic failed me as much as your words, hollow and flat, used as often on me as the others perfecting their lipstick they hope to waste on your cheek. All so they can have a sip of the elixir my lungs are drowning in. So intoxicating it's suffocating and no matter how many apples I take a bite out of, I still don't find the one that slowly numbs and all at once takes away.

Trapped and begging for sleep because the shackles on my wrists are telling me I have to escape before I wither.
I must have.