“Forget about her.”
“She’s bad news.”
“You better get used to being hurt.”
“She plays games, and you’ll lose.”
And though I know they speak the truth,
I won’t let it be a bother.
They ask why I think I’d be any different from the rest.
Well, I’m a sword swallower.
I repress the gag reflex, so the butterflies don’t come out.
I flip back my epiglottis in my throat.
I nudge my heart to the left, so it doesn’t break.
It really just involves hope.
And though my heart sometimes is still affected.
I know that it’s worth the pain.
I’ll continue my craft until I perfect it.
Because nothing else makes me feel the same way.
She’s my life, yet she doesn’t know.
So I guess it’s easier for her to put me through hurt.
I saw her with him, and it can’t possibly get worse–
when there’s that lump in your throat you can’t swallow.