trust.

you would write me poetry,

with love and sweet words dripping down your chin,

but love comes with a price,

a price I thought no one would ever win.

I’d stay up all night,

and you stayed with me

just to burn through the next day

with tired eyes and sore feet.

I am a losing game of love,

that no one can ever possibly win

unless their feelings are less fragile than mine,

and don’t spill through their skin.

my stomach still turns when I think of you,

but you’ve been burned into my mind

there’s no way I could remove the bind

of loving you, of meeting the divine.

there’s no escape to the everlasting fright,

that I’ve cut you open with all my might

and filled you to the brim with lies…

do you lie awake at night?