The Empty Room

His friendship is like a mirror, he simply reflects his words off of you to see how he looks.
One-sided, without further dimension.

Her insecurity is a program.
It's binary, either 1 or 0, and you're the coder.

She shines her harsh light from above, the scorn raining downward.
Powder can't hide your facial faults.

He awaits your hands, eager: Open me, please.
The door sits welcoming, begging for attention.

In the middle you remain.
Flesh, bone, blood and brains.
Centerpiece of this chess game.