I’m sorry I made you a monster.
I needed a demon I could trust.

I only see the good in you,
You only see the bad in me.

I guess opposites really do attract.

I want to create.
I want to make something worth your
attention, something that makes you see me.
Words have never worked.
Sorrys are always forced.
Promises are always broken.
But what I will forge out of the steel
and iron that kept me in darkness, will
radiate Power.
A fire of destroying pain.
A fire of cleansing pasts.
And a fire to radiate my love and
presence so you will be forced to
see me.

The doctors might have stitched me up,
but I held that wound together.
Even when it bled and scabbed and itched, the
suture never ripped.
And when it finally fades into nothing but a faint
Scar , instead of an injury desensitized residents
dream of,
I will wear it proudly.
That save is mine.

When I see you, my head pounds
When I talk to you, my throat is sore
Am I sick?
Or am I sick and tired of the ******* spewing out of your mouth like *****,
The tang leaving an aftertaste more sour than the way we left things.

Moving on is the best medicine,
But you doused me in the sickly sweet scent of your soul,
The formaldehyde keeping me from letting the memories decompose
So I kept fighting and I put  the relationship on life support.

It doesn’t matter though,
As the erratic beat turns into a flatline, I declared the time of death.
If you wouldn’t offer me a “clean” break I was going to make one,
even if it was riddled with more disease than the corpse.

I wanted to bury and mourn it, but our friendship is a morgue;
Sterile and haunted.
The husks of who we used to be dissected by my thoughts every chance I get.
Where did I go wrong?
The autopsy is inconclusive