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You thought it was a spark,
But it was a conflagration.

You see, some monsters are complex.
Some are nice,
And talented,
And poetic,
And sweet to you,
But they'll erode you to dust.
They'll shatter you like a glass bottle traveling at high speeds towards a cold, hard brick wall.  
They'll treat you like a backup plan,
Like nothing,
And you'll forgive him every ******* time
Because you're so blinded,
Under his spell,
And he's so ******* charming.

But you're not a ******* second choice.
You deserve respect.
You deserve someone who will put you first,
Someone who won't throw you on the back burner.
You're a gem.
You're a catch.
You're important,
And important things are valuable,
And valuable things should be kept close.

There will be other sparks,
Hell, there will be fireworks,
And they won't burn you.
If I revealed my horrors...
I wonder,
would you hide your face?
It's been long since
blood was denser than water
and stranger
seems the time that
salt was plethoric to my lips.
It seems, dear callous lover
that my days are surely numbered.
If only you could taste the loathing
that kisses you when I do.
Would you then accept my darkness
as I accept your light?

Oh, reaper, oh my darkness...
I wonder,
if you could stay away this time?
I've found my redemption,
I swear he'll be my truth.
You say that purity
cannot intertwine a heart like mine,
but his irrefutable goodness
has brightened my very soul.
I can hear your back crack,
in the dark.
Removing your underwear
with chewed fingernails:
You softly ask
if we can share scar tissue
and if I'll stay
despite every issue.

You try to kick the covers
off of our bed,
and ask if we can share the thoughts
buzzing inside of your head.

When insomnia erases your eyes
and disease steals your brain:
You inhale ways to die,
because you still dream
but it's not the same.

I can hear the static in your skull.
I know why you keep
the kitchen knives dull.
You pull on my fingers
so I don't forget you.
You cry on the pillows
and hope I like romance too.

I kiss your temple
during each thunderstorm.
I read you books in bed,
because your eyes are worn.
I put my ear to your chest
because I want you to see
that the air you breathe
means everything to me.

— The End —