paper friends

I’m the velvet rug you step on, keeping all the mud away,
I’m the umbrella in your pocket for a rainy, gray-blue day. 

But the toxic fumes are rising, and the air is getting thin, 
I let you under my umbrella, let the poison soak my skin.

Now the circle’s getting smaller, just a speck of dust or two, 
While you're busy being holy for the ones who stepped on you. 

You're a graveyard for the villains, keeping every secret safe, 
While I'm the only ghost you’ve chosen to erase.

You pour your sugar in the mouths of those who spit it out, 
A saint of second chances, wrapped in vanity and doubt. 

You drink their bitter tea and smile, you say it tastes like wine, 
But draw a jagged line in chalk between your heart and mine.

We shared the marrow and the teeth, the messy, ugly parts, 
But you're the curator of ruins, keeper of broken hearts. 

I'm the only one who stood by you without a hidden knife,
So why am I the only one you've chose to leave behind?