Thoughts of you used to be dragonflies.
Now they're polar bears.
They used to softly pull at the corners of my mouth,
Giving me a constant look of contentment.
Now they only inspire a gag from within by,
Bearing their teeth and with a growl,
Expelling stinky, hot breath into my nostrils.
Now, instead of easily slipping to sleep,
To the hum of the pretty insects,
At the end of my days,
I lay down and give myself over to
The vicious claws of your memory.
I let them come and thrash at my skin.
I am all out of fight. I let them tear me open,
Devour my strength and relish in my pain.
Upon waking in the morning,
I will calmly regard the damage,
Before silently repacking my organs
Into my abdomen and carefully stitching
The casing of my body back together.
Before, walking out of the door,
I gaze upon the likeness of Frankenstein's
Monster in the mirror, then apply enough
Powdery foundation to face the world
Under the guise of "I'm great! how are you?"
Finally, when the sun and smiles fade and
Have rendered me utterly exhausted, I will once-again
Fall back into bed with the polar bears of you.