I’m going to write you a letter.
Not now, most likely not tomorrow.
Maybe before I die, just after I get better.
See I found the problem.
The problem with me is my problem with you.
I have discovered I am the modern parasite.
I am the soul sucker.
I cling to your skin and your heart. All those little chunks--- I bite.
I know.
I was intoxicating.
I was lovely.
I was fragile.
I was broken.
You wanted to fix me.
But instead,
I broke
You.
I tore you apart and clawed out your heart.
Your eyes went glassy and your feelings fell apart.
I destroyed you.
You, You, You, You, You, You and You.
But who’s counting?
I take responsibility but I do not take blame.
I showed mercy, see.
I gave you a way out. I opened doors and offered temptation.
I warned you. I wanted you gone. I wanted you safe.
I screamed until my lungs became asphyxiated but unlike you;
I’m breathing fine.
Now we’re strangers.
Now we’re enemies.
I miss you.
But not the way you want me to.