I had wished that he loved me
like he loved violence
He had no problems romanticizing
the trauma of others
But he couldn't romanticize my problems
not at all
Made a mockery of suicide
but would gladly take the lives and loves of others
I'm glad I've learned that there's people
who can love me without making me small
This stupid girl
or parasite, as he would say
She can't do anything about him
There's no controlling what he does
or who he hurts
There's only hoping that the hurt
stays emotional
There's only moving on