you adorn my galaxy on the ceiling of your room and then scatter me across your floor; renaming my planets after my insecurities.
you trace the blanket of my skin with your light fingertips and then tear it apart with the shreds of your bottled anger.
you plant your love in the garden of my body and then pluck out my lilies and daisies by strangling their roots; replacing them with lifeless weeds.
you apologize for your cruelty and then excuse it off for your bipolarity.