You were a star,
shining brilliantly,
far away in the sky—
a distant beauty to adore.
But you are no longer a star,
light-years away.
You are my teddy bear,
soft, close—
a companion to my heart,
my comfort, my friend.
You are no longer my teddy bear,
held tight in my embrace.
You are my master, my puppeteer,
pulling my strings at your will,
your pleasure over mine.
You are no longer my master,
controlling my movements, my thoughts.
You are my disease,
the ailment of my soul,
plaguing my mind, my body, my breath.
You are no longer just my disease.
You have become my death.
You stripped life
of its heartbeat,
severed my identity
from my childish innocence,
pushed me beyond my years.
I wasn’t whole.
