That night that I am not over

After all the personal manipulation disguised as growth

I felt I could overcome any obstacle

Until that night.

There where two of me, four of you

But it wouldn’t have been enough

Enough for you to put aside your desires, your taste for betrayal

Perhaps if your combined love was multiplied to the power of your alter egos,

Personas I had not interacted with, never seen, lurking behind your silver front

The act was not one done with the absence of your love

Love for me, which I had suggested resided within every inch of my being

How I could I be so stupid,

To secure in our shared blood that pumps through my veins,

Beating at the same pace

When did we lose our rhythm,

I never learned to skate despite our perfect sync.

An ode to you,

To your harsh coat,

Your overbearing sense of protection

Your actions controlled by your power of deception,

if immaturity is my second nature,

How does our reactions lay on either side of each-other.

Tribute to your first breath, we lay under the tree,

i can’t recall how it felt to be held by you,

Without hatred and fear injecting my veins.

For my own, you broke my bones,

My blood covers the weapon,

Still fresh, dripping on the floor of your first haven

Unable to sercome to the winds of time.

For now my words are intended to be hurtful, cruel

i want to watch you burn.

But unfortunately my empathetic nature you have no essence of replaces violence with worry,

Anxiety of your mind, how It must feel to be a liar.

I sense it can’t be comfortable, as I cannot sleep while hiding the actions from your lover.

Now its time for emerald,

Your new persona,

Because I cannot betray your identity if It effects my mother.

My star crossed lover, my best traits enclosed in your superiority

What a joke

Your neglect is humorous,

I cry tears of laughter.

why do I treat you with such admiration,

If I had lived your actions I would sink under

weighted down by ropes connected to a thousand rocks

relaxing my grip and drowning my lungs.

But I haven’t lived your action, only embodying your consequence

The not living, but functioning production of your intoxication. 

Psychedelic daydreams do not exist anymore,

You ruined my taste of adventure, I cannot recall hunger

One day I am going to run far away from you, and meet another

Who will indefinitely wait until I poor her a glass of my elixir,

And share it with my lover.

I am in love with two serial killers,

Which makes me an accessory to murder.

One victim still breathes in darkness ever since you stole the bulb,

Another victims organ sits on my desk.

I make my bed at night,

Ready to be caressed in-between the fingers my fresh sheets of innocence and indirect involvement have to offer.

But I know while my body rests,

You do not

And while her body rests

Yours does not.

This is not an ode of forgiveness

I carve the waves of empathy tirelessly every day,

Fruitful pickings sliced and displayed,

Inhaled by your greed.

You do not know this sweet nectar is your lifeline,

I am the only thing that keeps you perfectly fine.