He loved with the cruelty of nature
growing like ivy on my heart;
I'd cut him away but he'd only return

He nestled in my branches
making a home out of my rotting shell,
forgetting home is where the heart is

He said "destruction was a form of beauty"
So he pretended to be reborn a hurricane
Firing open doors better left closed in his wake

At times, it was better to hide from him
Wait out the storm and pretend
everything was perfectly alright

Then when it was all over
He'd kiss my wounds,
grow flowers from my dying veins

But not so long after they would wilt
because even the sweetest of things
couldn't survive within our own toxicity.