saying I am a little offended is an understatement
for years I have stood by your side
and watched the **** you let carcass your skin
send shivers through your bones
who in the end break them all in half
and pile them back into my arms again
where I rebuild, restore, reform
but you destroy, demolish, devour
each time
but eventually
I never gave you back
to the souls who feed on your essence
like a power outlet
and I am told I am in the wrong
that I cannot play the heroine in this light
that you don’t want to feel my hands
that my breath for you was in vain
and it ******* hurts
and I want to rip
and tear
and leave
this life behind
because even when I am needed
I am still utterly not wanted.

I’m not sure why I’ve been alone all this time
things started out almost vibrant
but I’m afraid you made me lose my touch
because for the past three years I cannot feel
I am nothing but this decaying carcass

I see love flourish around me
ringing of bells, hums of holidays in the air
I stand alone
and watch flushed cheeks
herbs hung above doorways
scarves wrapped tightly around throats
but all I can feel is
what I cannot feel
the only witness
my breath that hangs in a mist

this is not an illness that haunts me
but instead the undesirable traits of my being
like icicles hanging from rooftops,
I am avoided and knocked to the ground
as shattered reminders of
something that won’t melt
something that needs to drip down the drain
but is instead frozen to the pavement
and kicked aside by somebody
with warmth flowing through
thin veins and
a naïve heart

where do I go from here
alone, afraid
craving your arms and not knowing why
is this feeling as real as
the sun so bright?
or is it just snow melting on my flustered cheeks
its substance dripping off skin like
the way your eyes waver from mine
but I cannot catch it on my bare palms
because while this loneliness swallows me whole
being a part of something more  
would leave me just as ruined

this love holds a knife against my throat
and cuts ribbons into my skin
with every lingering thought of you
is my love a sin?
is my sole purpose just another flaw of my being?
crimson blood upon white walls spell it out
not in my native language, of course
I guess my heart will never know
if I was just meant to be ****** in the hands of this curse

ultimately,
we would be tragic
but I cannot keep my thoughts off this temptation
even though I don’t know if this is what I want
and you could easily crush me
between your fingers
because I am as small as
a spider wafting along the breeze on a thin strand
of who knows what
practically nothing
that’s what I am
that’s what we are