-heart disease-

I thought I loved from the depth of my bones

But I only loved the concept, my idea of what I thought a lover should/would/could be.

My passion is hollow. Perhaps I’ve never felt anything but a

Dream. Lie. Construct.

Skin-deep, afraid to dive in

Such a talker, not so much a communicator though.

I never knew. I never knew the truth of me.


All fear, all day long

No blood in these veins, only cold dread seeping to the capillaries

From the terror lodged, arteries blocked, heart stopped

A walking talking mannequin declaring herself a catch

Perhaps I still am, despite it all.

Could be improved, though, I’d say.

Joke’s on me, all these years I thought

It was them

Never me

It was them.

I was the victim

Turns out, of my own fantasy world

Not their intentions.

I wanted to be better, the good partner

And so I chose poorly, I protected, I upheld my barriers staunchly

While declaring that it was them

As if. It could be. So simple.

Black & white, not a thing, my dear.

Oh love.

I am love, and I am lost, and I am whole.

And I am perfect. But not nearly complete.

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