When I wake

Dreams of you betrayals...

they come to me in spades.

It is always a sickly reminder,

but I still miss you when I wake.

I do not know how you ever got me,

quite so twisted inside. 

Without you here I forgot living,

could feel quite so alive.

Now even when I hate you...

I love the passion that it feeds!

In some sick way I am thankful,

that you have broken parts of me!

What you did it made me special.

I can recognize my worth.

In the darkness out of nowhere,

I can smell you brand of hurt.

The smell it makes my toes curl...

every hair stand at attention,

over excitement for you battle...

and what it is representing.

My scars scream in protest,

but my eyes revitalize...

that picture I have of you,

and I start to realize. 

That I have become addicted,

to you personal brand of pain.

Now even the scar tissue is itching,

to reside in you insane. 

When you left I put on armor,

but at you approach it falls away...

exposing all the soft and meaty bits, 

that I know you love to taste.

With every inch exposed...

I am you canvas leave your mark!

Breathe life right back into me...

and then tare it all apart. 

Dreams of you betrayals...

they come to me in spades.

It is always a sickly reminder,

but I still miss you when I wake.