When will you leave my dreams.
I won’t be able to sleep tonight, or any night it seems.
All hope was lost in the moment I thought I was found.
Negative reinforcements brought on in threes.
And because of you, any grasp on self esteem will cease and decrease until elegant falling of the autumn leaves.
In a split second eternity of clarity or desperation, call it what you will.
A realisation that you’re a pathogen and I’m critically ill.
Revelation, no vaccination can cure this virus,
In only a few weeks your roots begin to seep and embed themselves in me, like poison ivy strangling an oak tree.
A beautiful metaphor, but more deadly than meets the eye.
You take and take until I bend and break, and my branches wither.
It’s sad I know, but there’s no future where I’m not with her.