Lament To Your Fake Happiness In A Lovely Simulation Poem by Quênia Lalita

the white wine I used to drink
now has an aftertaste of your lips,
compelling me to eradicate
my desperate effort,
my erratic behavior,
my need to quit;
but don't you worry,
I'll do it in tiny sips.

yesterday your silence told me
for the hundredth time
you've got nothing left to say
so I better get out of your sight,
throwing my pointless concern away;

the funniest thing is that I can finally see
how miserable you actually are
squenching in troubles, swallowing debris,
willingly tearing yourself apart,
growing sadder and colder, even in heat...

'cause you're a martyr, aren't you?
and you're the smartest, aren't you?
you don't make any dumb mistakes
(not like me)
you're the holiest of saints
(I'm a soulless flea)
you don't have any spare time to learn,
you don't care about anything
except for your parties and your little sweets
it turns out, dope is your only true love
you never had any room for me.

I don't know why I keep wondering
if my shadow's burnt into the corners
of your filthy house;
when in reality I am certain that
my face's rapidly fading
from your fucked up mind,
from your heart made out of clay,
which I once believed it to be gold
which I once held in my hands, in dismay.

I promise not to make another sound
we don't have to play hide and seek
I give up, wishing some peace is found
in your avalanche of fried thoughts
in your hurricane of empty weeks;

just remember, little one
I tried my best, that was no trick
- feel free to hold an arrogant grudge forever,
as long as you're aware that such an act
may eventually turn you into an oblivious prick.

since I can't pretend, much less prevent
here I raise my glass: a last lament
to that fake happiness of yours!
I am taking all my apologies back,
erasing what still remains of our lack,
forgiving myself for being flawed,
keeping myself in the cleanest fog;
knowing that, at least, I'm no longer living
in that lovely simulation you call 'life'
only hoping and praying, from afar,
that you won't fall in a ditch of skylark.