It isn't healthy; the way we live by each ration each tidbit of each other's lives
that slides through the grape vine.
We thrive on the unquenchable thirst
The untameable yearn
For the space in our fingers
The cold in our beds
And the void in our hearts.
To meet an end.

But it was me
Who tore the unbreakable apart.
It was me
Who fled when we came too close, came too far.

I convinced my brain to believe
That you were no good for me.
A vermin.
A thief.
But my heart slowed on the day my lips told you to go
The day my hands led you away
But my eyes I begged you to stay.

Your name is still the one I breath
As I drift off to sleep
Yet your name is the one I
Scream
In the terror of my dreams.

So tell me, who has won?
Who has claimed checkmate
In the game of love and hate?
No one can say.
Because the game is not over;
It has only just begun.