I feel it start to take root beneath my ribcage,

Like someone lights an ice cube on fire in my chest,

The ice does not cool the fire,

And the fire does not melt the ice,

They simply burn together,

Hot and cold,

Not an unfamiliar sensation,

An old friend by now.

It's becomes an expectation,

It reminds me of you,

It's familiar,

It's why I continue to love someone,

Who tortures me like you do,

But it never hurts less than it did,

The time before,

Or the time before that.

I tell myself that because I can't see it,

It's not real,

But I don't believe myself,

Then I take a sip,

I feel the coolness extinguish the fire,

And the warmth melt the ice away,

And I grow dizzy

And confused,

And warm,

And happy,

I believe all the lies I tell myself,

And don't care what's real and what isn't.

And the next time you see me,

Ill pretend,

That I didn't care at all,

That I'm fine,

That I don't love you,

And hope that I believe myself.