Losing Beautifully

Goodbye.

The word used to slip so easily from my bruised lips,

and it always made you proud enough to stick around.

The lies you told were just daily vitamins meant to seep into my naive thoughts, 

the stronger the affects, the weaker this love seemed to get.

Pain.

You taught me your language of hurting so well, 

that sad words and broken promises meant to provoke my fire, 

the same one you used to love about me, 

disappeared into the abyss of different who's despair matched my own. 

Weak,

The word described you effortlessly.

From the way your flesh softened when my fingers ran across the curves on your face,

to the way your bones shattered at the thought of losing me.

I used to love seeing you burn in my hands.

Losing.

You decided you were good at it and you wore it like a permanent smile,

meant to capture and keep the victims, 

never to warn them of enemy you'd mold them to be.

Your attempts at covering the scars of your past always backfired,

bringing to the surface a game you thought I'd never win.