"Poetry and hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. All you can do is go where they can find you" – A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
You cut and cut and cut,
a harsh cruel tactic – like battleships
I am a game. A stratagem.
Be rid of me; cast me to the wind like confetti-
My only weapon is a razor edge, but I have no muster.
My body is broken by you. Suckling on our love like a greedy child.
Like nectar its sweetness warms me — but like poison it slowly lulls all senses.
As if I were Samson – and you Delilah, you cut all the strength from me.
Toying with me as if I were a cub, weaning me on your lies.
You cannot set me free. You see.
Our bond sits like scar tissue — sensitively covering our old hurts.
But, now and then we are led into darkness — like Giselle our old love is now vile.
we dance the dance of death — play like a china dolls
Then break like little brittle bones.
Your poison is my healer,
With words injecting fire that melts away my heart.
We are addicted to the illness that stifles us; this sad game of courtship.
Berating and childish we circle like predators,
Hunting each other into extinction erasing the trace of love.
My faith is crushed by the weight of it, this thing, this drug of failure that infects my body leaving only ashes ad dust.