I speak
About hating
How I speak
I have feelings
About my extreme
Lack of feeling
I find myself
In all the ways
I've lost myself
Machines gain souls
Once they've realized
They are machines

I can no longer be the only one,
The only one that loves you
You have to love yourself too

He is cut from marble
Stoic, reformed, awe inspiring
Smells of mountain tops
Rain washed stone
Just as cold and clean
Voice unwavering
Could command war fleets
A murderous disinfectant
With a one track mind
Unloving, unlovable
He was leaned on
Never leaned into

His frame is that
Of a split willow branch
Splintered and narrow
Bendable and strong
He barely musters mutters
Words colliding, sticking
Like molasses on linen
His eyes are damp moss
I know from photographs
As his eyes won't meet mine
Too fragile, faithful , naive
To bear so many scars
He settles for shelter
He deserves a home

Cigarettes stuffed
In the worn out pocket
Of a jacket
That doesn't belong to me
A walk in the rain
Early in the morning
With a dollar store lighter
That doesn't belong to me
Soaking my socks
Inhaling smoke
I have a heartache
That shouldn't belong to me

Forgetting you exist
Should not have been easier
Than existing with you