“Come closer, babe,” he says
“Let me love you,” he says.
“I know, Dove,” he says
“I was there.”

Remains silent is what he does
Walks away is what he does.
Leaves me is what he does.
Defenseless. Vulnerable.

Love is what he is:
Fire, passion, and bliss.
But grief, pain, and sorrow are his
And he forces them on me.

Crack is what he is.
Addicting. A rush.
Air and water and light is what he is
Necessary is what he is.
An essential torment.

I long for peace
But with it comes ridicule
And hate and war.
I long for feelings
For emotion and passion.
But with him comes dependency
And depression. And ultimate sorrow.

This one who promises
This thing that destroys what he creates
Grips me and
Sends me swirling
Into blackness;
The sea
Of highest apathy.