I've always hated when they called me baby.
Because that made me think I had to stay, that I was theirs to keep.  Every ***** on their prindle was fine, Every ache I carved, every stich I sewn , every needle I stuck into my finger, I yelled out "baby, why do you do this to me for I am not yours to keep".  We are not lovers just fighter pointing fingers at one another with clenched joints and O's in our throats heaving at the fact you're not mine. And I never wanted that.