toxic relationships are all we know: mutualism

(her)

i think my body’s an illusion

'cause whenever i'm with you it's like each thought evaporates

as my  body consumes you as though you're my everything;

and love, you are & that's the problem, since i only knew

this true, when i realized i loved starting fights with you.

and every word you spit at me, simply landed at my feet, 

though, i never knew why i picked them up as though

they were jewels, shoving them down my throat hoping

they'd hide until i could use them against you, yes,

my favorite pain of yours is when it's my willing with your doing.

but now, my heart's bleeding rubies and my hands are too

scarred from fighting with you to try and catch them; no,

i can't do this anymore-yet, i already tried replacing you

and he was too kind and there was not enough passion to make me avoid

thinking about you: it felt like cheating, and cheating on you

hurt me too.

slowly and gently that's how you broke me.

(him)

your nail scraps the skin along my backbone, and

darling, if there wasn't skin under your nails, perhaps,

i'd love it more; but no, the blood dripping down is

mine and yours alone, and all i want to  know is why,

we find (secret) joy in the way we scream and fight?

everything started as a light-hearted competition, then things

move too fast and our eyes blinded each other, and

i learned to realize there is such thing as too much passion

for it to mean anything (truly). & when (i overheard) you claim to

love  another, i left before you officially found the courage

to tell me; yes, i'd prove to you what you're missing: soon, you'd

want me to be your everything.

perhaps starting fights with your new lover was the reason

behind our disaster, but don't believe i'd ever tell you

as though it were truth; it's you to blame, for you can't have

two lovers, our life together shouldn't be a game. so as i

hold you in my arms and scream into your ear the facts about my

suffering and pain as you abused me, i'll even remind you of

the girl i (pretended to) fancy, as a way to create your jealousy.

i've loved you since i met you, shouldn't our cliche be working?

(them)

together and forever are defined different in each of our dictionaries,

and we both cried over each other and vain when the other

wanted more; yes, we were to blame behind each other's miseries

and bad comings: "i love you" was said far too many times yet

never enough. & even if we were both raised the same with love for

each other and growing up to become a part of one another, it's

our backgrounds and cultures and unknowings and dramatics and desires

that means we won't ever, be together, truly.

t̶i̶l̶ ̶d̶e̶a̶t̶h̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶u̶s̶ ̶p̶a̶r̶t̶  til death brings us unity