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Her Complex
I thought you'd stay, oh I had,
but now your voice is fading thin.
Since, I've dragged the tips of toes
and left lines trailing behind me.
Now I feel, I'm waiting on death
without a hand to force his blade toward
my center and my rhythmic pulse. I must
assume that he has better things to do,
than await my request for endless sleep.
Nor did I assume you'd settle on me.
I thought I was your gift, as you're mine.
And though declined, I posit this:
I'm still fool enough to love you today.
Once I'd heard you fancied me,
as far as going, an attempt to ruin that,
which sought to best you and me.
And she succeeded then, didn't she?
Maybe it was for better and best, we saw
it fall apart in a fit of stupidity and succor.
Now we longer speak, in part due to me
and my savage need to depart with all these things
that dot my invitations to the old and joyous reaper.
And if you were to return, I simply wouldn't believe a word,
and I'd ask you to leave all over again.
