The Persistent Illusion of Longing

He’s how I punish myself
I don’t feel worthy enough to be loved properly
at the times that I miss him the most
Feelings come and go and so
he’s how I stab myself over and over in the heart
so I die loving too much
but from the most self-inflicted of injuries.
I’m just hurting me
I obviously think I’m a waste of his energy
and because I love him now and again and hate me off and on
I don’t want him to waste any on anybody but me
So I say what he wants to hear.
I tell him shit like,

Sometimes I’m playing along, baby.
Sometimes I’m testing you too.
When I’m bored of playing chess the king and his latest tired queenly plaything
go back into the box with the smaller pawns of my pleasure
until I feel like using them for war games with my free time again
You’ll stay there until I bring you out again…
Until you’re feeling sassy again
and you remember you aren’t being punished enough by the real world.
Sex is in the imagination and even if you do
get so incredibly bored that you have to
give yourself to anyone but me its all in your mind.
You’re fucking yourself either way it goes and that’s just fine
I don’t care who might be fucking you
you just using them the same way that I am using you.
But of course, you are allowed to do whatever stupid shit you want to do to get by.
(That’s my favorite part of this lie)
It is irrelevant to me sweet thing.
Do whatever fuckshit you want to.
I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either.
Plus you like it when I’m meaner and
nothing can change the order of things
when I’m the one who puts you in boxes and cages and will never set you free.
You belong to me like I said and you always will.

But it’s not how I feel, it’s just what I say.
I’m just hurting me.
He’s how I stab myself over and over in the heart
so I die loving too much
but from the most self-inflicted of injuries.
Feelings come and go and so
when I don’t feel worthy enough to be loved properly
those are the times that I miss him the most
He’s how I punish myself…


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