The Weakling’s Lament

He said he loved me once as a joke and that was enough
until a year later when he said it again
and we’ll never know why he did-
we’ll never know…
twice now, in the years since I’ve known him he’s said that and
he’ll never have to tell me again, ever in life-
And I don’t know how it got this way…
Why do I keep talking to him?
Why do I immediately feel exhausted after every interaction?
Why do I want his attention so desperately?
Sometimes I wish he was dead but he’d just haunt me.
All that matters is that to my animal nature’s palette
he tastes the best. I’ve never wanted any one like this before-
I thought that I did once and that man gave me a son and as far as I was concerned he had done enough…
and this one, he hasn’t done a fucking thing for me but mess my days and nights and dreams up and with my cut up and bloody hands still cradling his knife I cannot let go-
The perfect torture is self inflicted.
The things that I’ve gotten to do to his body were nothing short of worship.
The sunset will never love you specifically.
I can’t fight the truth.
And I know he doesn’t believe me and I know he doesn’t care and I know it doesn’t really matter that I love him too and that’s just how it is.
I am powerless.

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