Questioning Sanity

i keep poking myself in the heart with a razor,

the sharpest razor in the world,

and to my delight i find that my heart is made of the coldest ice.

the razor rusts,

and my heart is left unwounded.

i keep anticipating the pain that isn't coming,

it's an unusual feeling.

not pleasant but not unpleasant either,

like an adrenaline rush of pure, raw nerve,

but sedated.

you cannot hurt me anymore.

i cannot even hurt myself.

our bad romance is just a figment now.

not even a feeling or a presence.

it's long lost, as are you.

moving on, but stuck in place.

you are so blind.

can't you see what the eyes of the people around you do?

it's a two way glass,

you're on one side,

the rest of the world is on the other.

i'm happily miserable,

i'm miserably happy.

as long as the happiness is there,

it's going to be okay.

Author's Note

only thing good about my ex is that he inspired a lot of deep -poop- to come forth from within me.