The One with the Aliens

Trapped here,
Between my heart and my gut,
Caged by my ribs and a mind too open,
I’m Fighting for a freedom I don’t really need.
Your eyes plead,
“Don’t leave…”
But your arms are wrapped around another.
“Soul mate,”
or side dish? I’ve never known the difference.
Not here, anyways.
“You complete me.”
Is that so? How should I know?
Your words contradict your actions.
I wish I could see that TV Show we joke about…
The one with the aliens watching us from afar,
Scripting the complications
To make for exciting TV.
I think, just maybe
You’re writing this script
And I’m playing along
Because I haven’t got the guts
To move on,
And my heart is a great excuse
To hold on.

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