I. You know I resent you for a thousand things,
like how she and I don’t talk anymore. But most
of all because you didn’t love me. Like how you
made everything seem so simple when it wasn’t.
But most of all because you fooled me
completely. I resent you for a thousand things,
but I still don’t know what I’ll say when you decide
to come back. You’ll come back.
II. Twisting my thoughts around you has
become so simple to do, become a habit.
Twisting them around you, through you,
drilling into your skin. But it gets harder and
harder to hollow you out like I would before,
making you into an empty shell that I was much
less afraid of. I love this ball and chain; Stockholm
syndrome has never been this fun before.
III. And you’re an entity that doesn’t have a
name. A mix of so many spirits that excites me
in a way I didn’t know something could. You’re
a list of intoxications that renders me so
readable it’s dangerous. I slur my words and
you take my hand like I’d never been so
articulate and charming.