I would rather hate you then love the idea of you.

That's the world I've been inhabiting for the last few months.

My stream has emptied into the sea of your emotions,

and I am tossed around in the malestrom of your moods.

I always told my mother I would find a person who loved me,

and I thought I had found that in you.

But I can only get hit so many times before I figure out you aren't giving me black eyes because I deserve them.

My face is bruised because you want me to walk around marked as owned.

You are so possesive you want to make me your property,

but you're too broke for a promise ring, aren't you?

You are the most toxic person I have ever met, and I am the most positive you will ever meet.

I couldn't talk about my problems without you bringing up yours,

but every time you needed me, I was there.

Do you know how exhausting it is to pretend to be okay with what's happening?

When things are out of your control, so you pretend it's going how you wanted,

but you look in the mirror at night when insomnia is slow dancing with your mind and you see the tears running down your perfectly made-up cheeks because you have to look pretty at all times for that one person who couldn't care less about you, and you're trying so hard but nothing is going right for you and you can feel the time running out in your life and you can't even think of any moments that were worthwhile besides those you spent with the person you hate now, because you should hate them, you should, but as you look at the bruise around your deep brown eyes you can't bring yourself to do anything but love that fist that put it there.

Is this love or a slow-moving poison?

Could I just die already?