"You poor, poor thing,"
signs whisper to me as we pass by.
They know that I can't escape;
this new aching in my heart that wasn't there before
is only the growing pains of getting old.

But only love can hurt like this.
My heart is expanding to endless limits.
I love you even when I don't,
you're filling up the spaces between my bones.

Now my head is the only thing still my own.
I know you'd break my nose to break in,
bruise my heart only to mend it again.
I'd do the same but I'm already patched with bits of you and I'm losing control.