Mirage.

here, have a heart.

Evidence of your

Heart has a way

Of showing up

On my neck.

The illusion,

That I call my home.

The illusion,

That is your embrace,

Has become my prison.

A monotone demeanour,

Affection devoid of empathy.

You ask me to unwrap,

The gift.

"Here, have a heart."

I have, yours.

Yet, you want me to

Wear our story on my skin.

The calligraphy of your spite,

Is etched on my neck.

I picked the wrong poison.

But, I am meant to die.

I'd rather let you,

Put me to rest.

We have been black and blue.

Blood, brazen fists, and merciless.

I confine myself to your hell,

As I light the candles for our anniversary.

Your evening fury that spills,

And carries over into the morning.

Exhausted due to lack of sleep.

Our souls tired,

Of our warring dominance and submission.

I would like to ease,

In the quietness of your sleep,

In the lonely autumn dusk.

Put me to rest, for a while.

Let me recompose,

So, I can absorb your rage.

But,

Your quietness,

Is violent.

I guess,

Causeless love

Has no remedy.

You are mine to love,

I am yours, to regret.