I wonder when
your parasitic nature
will slowly start to
dim the lights
- you'll make a show
of pulling at my
dangling threads
(I'm obviously
unstable)
leeching on
my confidence
until I'm turning off
the switch myself
scared to see
the poison
you told me
I contain
and somehow
when I thought I
had it right
it's wrong
just wrong
because now
I can't recall
who's the one
to blame for this
mess we've made
of love -
was it you
or
is it me?
