Returning [Completed]

Bloodguilty

I love the way we are right now, in that universal space between infinities,
When we've spent ourselves on each other in the most morbid sort
Of self-indulgence and mutualistic hatred. I love sitting on this chair
Obliquely opposite that [hideous] coffee table you insisted on bringing
In here, because of old sentimentalities that you'll never share, and
I'll never ask about. I love being exhausted from the fights with you, because
Nothing tells me I'm alive the way your scratches feel on my back, how
My raw throat gives a rumble to my moans and how I can feel your
Heart pounding its way past my heaving chest. I love the way I'd
Sit and stare at you wordlessly for an eternity trying to bring you into
Me so I wouldn't have to make [embarassing] confessions of how I
Feel so alone, even when we're together. I love that quirky way you
Clench your fists and bite your lips when you want to just break my
Jaw and [really] give me something to be mad at you for, especially
On a rainy Sunday. I love the feeling of everything that comes in
Between us, that we crowd into that chasm so that we'd never have to
Face the other face; there's two in every relationship, [but really only
One.] I love the way my mom won't get over the fact that I really can't
Stand you any more, because she sees us through the eyes Tomorrow,
And we're just here playing Eye-Spy with Yesterday. I love the way
Your dad's determined to hate you, and how he makes me feel better
For not being the only one that wants to. I love the way I can always
Count on you to vanish [poof!] faster than my self-esteem when I want you
To just whisper into my ears that everything is everything. I love
It especially how you and I could fall apart on a broken tricycle
Of hatred, and disgust and tender, bitter love, because there's just
One seat and no one's willing to share. I love it how they tell me
You're happy doing the things you wanted when I really just wished
You both would go [die]. I love how happy you made me when you
Asked me to never leave, and how good it felt to sit and watch every
Promise fray out, and feel the masts shudder before they went
Under. I love that little lostness you put into your face to keep
Them coming to you, keep them loving you, keep them afraid
To [do what I did] walk out. I love to torture myself in a high breeze
While counting the times you lied to me to protect you from [me]
Yourself, so the wind can dry my tears and take my [whimpered] secrets
Away. I love to sit in the November eve and feel the chill seeping into
My bones, feel the warm burn in my stomach from shots of nostalgia
On the rocks, with chasers of long conversations and agony.
I love writing bad poetry like this that goes nowhere, or says anything
Much, because the wrong people read it, and the right people
Never understood me anyway; I'm not [transparent] weak like
You are. I love loving you. I love saying that in the present
Tense as though it's not a total and complete lie. But it's
True, really. I love loving you.