I fell in love with my demons: A confession.

I remember you, as though you
were the biggest sin bound to my surface,
a wound pushed forward, festering indefinitely
throughout the realms of pain.

I am brandishing myself as lost.
As something so far from a home burning
treacherously from the heart.
I see you, visiting in and out of my mind,
I hallucinate your warmth back beside me
as though for a moment, there was never
a lone minute without.

You are a glass of water in a world dying from
dehydration,
yet I pull you close, need reckoning inside
of my scarred body, consecrated; a Holy Temple
undeserving of all the praise.
But I do not sip. I do not sip.

They say that that is a good thing

Fighters fight what others cannot perceive,
the real battle is with oneself.

But you, my illness; is all that’s interesting about me.

Fatal, such brutal attraction belittles my once
good character, tell me;

How much is too reckless, when I talk about the wreckage
of you?

I wish you could see me, my reflections echoed
in empty nights,
my sinister tricks of the light,
everything considered destructive in the least
structured way and see something;
as opposed to nothing,
as opposed to this room, in the frame of my anxious
mind;
All things that are lost, are taking up the space on one
side.

I feel like the word broken.
Incomplete. Finish me...

They promised I’d feel better without you.