I AM incapable of love.
I AM a bullet jammed.
I AM a light smothered in darkness.
I cannot be happy with you,
I AM unhappy with life.
Not you.
It drags me around, like a child's blanket
I cannot see your worth.
Because, I cannot see you.
I AM blinded by a story, I have never told
And all the ones told about me, are lies.
Or truth, I have turned into lies or wished them away like the spot on my face, hidden by concealer.
I know it's there, but you don't.
I cannot see your worth because you have allowed me to spend all your emotions, like money I never had.
The line of credit you have given, me has never been declined.
I AM rich off your love and I AM driving you more and more in debt and you never saw it coming.
You invested in me and lost everything.
You cling to me like a child to their mother and it annoys me.
I love it.
But I can't stand you.
I want to run and hid from you,
But you are my safe place.
You build me up, to tear you down.
I can't sleep beside you, but the couch is cold.
I have pushed you so far, that you went away.
I called you back, you came without fail.
I regret you.
You adore me.
I abuse you.
You make me tea.
I fight you.
You comfort my anger.
I always loved that about you. You don't intimidate my demons. You play with them.
You named them. And take them on dates. You romanticize them. You find the beauty in them across the room. Even though the space between you and I is like a house on fire and our souls are being burnt to the ground.
I AM a cavern of metaphoric catastrophes and you are a mountain of understanding, I have created a hole so deep that God himself, could never fix you.
So, I sit next to you trying to feel your pain.
To feel any pain.
To feel anything.
My love was never free.
I cost more than I AM worth.
And now you are poor. And I AM still expensive.
My heart is a canyon of inability.
And yours never stops beating hope, into my chaos.
Thank you.
You can't help me.
Your money has never sustained my soul.
It has only caged my happy like my grandmother's parakeet.
You tell me I love you. And it echoes through my bones.
MY bones are like a well that has run dry they moan and creak with every labored effort to bring you lifesaving water. There is no water down there.
It has run dry.
Echo. Echo.
Now cover it up. Forget about it. Let a tree grow over it and wilt in the winter like all souls do.
Let a cardinal rest it's tired wings upon it in spring and call it home, like you do.
I AM not a bird, I AM a snake.
I AM cold and I AM more afraid of you, then you of me.
The lion and the snake can never coexist everyone knows that.

D.C Garriott

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