Ikea is on fire

Sometimes you take a spare tire and make a swing off of a tree for little kids to play on.
Other times you can turn a wooden crate into a decorative container for chrysanthemums.
But what you can’t do is tie me down to an illusion and then force feed me shards of broken glass and call it destiny and expect me to survive off of what’s possible in the most distant of futures.
Sometimes people use mayonnaise jars for drinking glasses,
Since thirsty is thirsty is thirsty….
Other times you can turn pickles or paint buckets into drum kits.
But what I can’t do is go to sleep every night believing in mistletoe and cupid’s arrows and Valentine’s hearts hidden in chocolate covered cherries.
Sometimes you use something for some other reason besides its original purpose and call it recycling.
Other times you’re too lazy to throw something out so you claim to give it new life.
But what you can’t do is lie to me in my face with a smile on yours and pretend I misread all of the signals.
Because I clearly know what is real and what isn’t. My skeptic is swinging.
I know what works and what won’t. My mistrust is tangible.
And I see what this is now, thanks to the lies I tell myself.
I’ve convinced me that you don’t know what love is and that is how we both will cope.


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