I love it so, I do.
The pain, I must,
to see all of this through.
Ravaged and alone,
I think of what I've spent, only to be thrown a bone.
What pleasure is worth,
the torture that birthed?
What lovers touch
could become such a burdensome crutch?
What rush could hold my soul, in it's palm, to easily crush?
The tighter I hold,
you become an obvious scold.
I love you, I hate you
moment to moment, an emotional coups.
Desires impossible to construe.
Withered and drawn,
a shell of what once was brawn.
I need it to exist,
one more dying kiss,
one last look, into loveís abyss.