The Burning Proverbial

So, two weeks in and I'm somewhat surprised to find myself sticking at this poetry malarkey. In fact I'm enjoying it very much.

Today's prompt was to write a poem consisting of nothing but questions until the final line. I'm not sure if this is really a poem and it turned out longer than I intended; I hope it's not over-done.

Is That Really You?

How is me making you miserable working out for you so far?
What's your plan to get out of the doldrums?
Why do you suppose we do this?
Is that really you? Really really?
Why does it feel so strange talking to you about this?

Am I blameless in the the eyes of the system?
Did you know you broke my heart all those years ago?

I'm always saying sweet things, aren't I?
Have I blanked it out or something?
Why don't I remember?

I was trying to do the right thing, you see that don't you?
What bit exactly are you apologising for?
Are you on tenterhooks?
Yes but it's still not all real is it?
You know you said how it might be okay or it might change everything?
The worst that can be is a bit of misery and pain, right?
What's the difference anyhow?

How are you going to make yourself beautiful?
How could I ever cope with that?
The stakes are high, aren't they?

But isn't that just life?
Isn't that the risk you have to take?
Is there really a choice?

I am a total bastard for letting things get left the way they did.

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