I have problems with forgiving/
Your escape, rather desertion of my life, has left me with only
lungs still full of water and a broken spirit.

And though I don't remember,
I can imagine the way your forehead crinkled
as you held my struggling body neath that liquid scapegoat.
One straighted arm keeping me down,
the other gently holding your dying cigarette.

The needle I found, near the side of your bed
was what persuaded me to give up.
To stop searching for a love I'd never known.
But you had given up long ago,
so it wasn't surprising when you gave me away
into the system.

I've tried for years to replace this agony with a healthier stimuli,
hoping that forgetting you will change my reasoning,
and general outlook on life.

I see now, that this was your plan.

I never believed you were the master manipulator you claimed to be...
until now.
 
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