The Player

You lit a candle in the hope the heat would fill the void
The hope that light would find some substance in the dark
Where all those shaking fading walls should hold your safely balanced words
Should reflect a smile whose warmth disguises the abyss
Belies a traitors twisted bloodied tongue
And it says
And you will feed us little deaths that serve to mark our fading,
fleeting hearts
Until we breathe, and nothing more, until we shine like mirrored glass
Reflect your artifice and art
Curse you. Curse you
And what is given falls away with speed akin to fading light
You shine so pale, approaching night
I give a smile, a smile you might just recognise
A mirror, guise, a worn disguise
My open arms, my lovers lies
My open mouth, my empty eyes
Curse you. Curse you