I’m tired of the dark abyss that your guilt tells me to dwell in, also known as lover’s shame.
I’m bored of your exhausted ideas and your halfhearted solutions that lead me to new dilemmas.
I ditest the cold empty space that you once called the hearth, that now harbors perpetual disinterest.
I used to enjoy the pale skin on your face, for it told me the stories words wouldn’t.
Your sore limbs filled me with respect and pride, because its purpose you made known.
I found safety in your presence, for no matter what life took from me, you took it back.
Now your limbs are strong, and that makes me happy, but your soul has become the placeholder.
Life grabbed the meaning from your mind and put stale bread in your hands, and you accepted it.
The roaring open flame, scorching any hand coming close and leaving burn marks, is now tamed.
I sought you up when you were strong.
I’ll be here for you when you’re weak.
Searching thy depths once more.
For I love you.