Just Like A Movie

The opening credits written
On my eyelids
Music sounding from a speaker box
Wired into my chest
To set a mood
We’ll start with conversation
With our backs turned to each other
Break stale bread under a fake moonlight
I’ll tell an overused joke, which is painful
Since this wasn’t meant to be a comedy

Something will blossom from this
Like it always seems to do in these situations
A montage of our hearts’ strings and cords
Tangled up like Christmas lights
It’ll be that kind of display to your friends
Who’re either Hollywood amateurs in their prime
Or burnouts on the downside of a fast career
But quite frankly, I won’t give a damn
I’ll be too tightly wrapped up with you

Transitions will make up for the time
When I sit in a windowless room
Untangled, wondering if this could be
Or if it should be, why shouldn't it be
When will it be, why wouldn’t it be
Until the camera comes to life again

Then we’re in a disclosed location
Maybe my grassless backyard
Your microscopic apartment
At the center of a nuclear explosion
Or in the purest purgatory we allowed ourselves into
You’ll act like you never felt before
I’ll probably forget my lines, stutter on
Cliché sayings will help make the points
Stunt doubles to take the blows
The rubber knife will go into my stomach
Pig’s blood spewing over the set
Artificial tears will stream down
A faceless figure will scream “CUT!”
Then the flower will wilt and disintegrate

No retakes, no second chance
Either I nailed the lines, played my part
To the best of my inability, or this will be
Another mediocre flick about the flawed emotion
People can’t stop raving about
The ending credits will run down my eyes
A sad orchestral piece playing from the empty chest
Before the screen goes completely black
It will read “dedicated to my parents and their divorce
To my television that flaunted love like a cheap drug
To my society that states all you need is this one thing
For without it, you’re better off dead
And to myself, for allowing this to be just like a movie”