You cook up your lies with subconscious intentions,
all the while having me believe you were acknowledging my existence.
I can feel your forged validation beginning to steam me to my core,
its fog slowly clouding my perception of you.
I can feel your irrational enigmas splatter upon my face,
reluctantly knowing that their stains will never wash out of my facade.
Your heat intensifies by the minute,
forcing me to bubble over with thoughts of assumed acceptance.
In order to stop the spurting of any kind of recognition,
you capriciously grab a lid to block me out.
Condensation builds as fast as your rejection,
as I abruptly crack under its pressure.
And then, there you go again,
evasively touching me,
to only move me farther away from you.
Just close enough to still feel your incredulous heat,
and yet far enough away for me to not be burned by it.
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