Wither

I chose to be dependent on something, built from my own resentment.
I put all my faith into my own flawed image of something that was derailing me
and failing me, yet keeping me grounded at the same time.
Being young and dumb is all smiles and fun until the sun that gives you light
decides to recede and hide itself, no longer immersing you in its warmth.
And when the sun was overpowered by the clouds in your head and the words that I said,
I was helpless to try and stop you from dulling the flame you ignited in me when we were kids.
And it was my own faults and failed promises that helped us find this dead end in a vehicle constructed from
all the ways that you and I wronged each other, still claiming that this was forever.
When you had your fill of fulfilling in me, a feeling that I had never seen,
you forked our path, confident that this wouldn't last.
That ship set sail and you dug it's anchor into waters that held no sign of me.
I wither in the self-hatred that I hold in my head for believing every word that you said.
I repulse myself in the way that I periodically, and methodically, replay the countless days
we spent and cherished as two.
But in the same way, I understand that nothing I ever have will spark me the way you could do.