I’m my worst enemy at times, and still my best friend. I’m the curse in the dimmer light, and the sun at the end…
..of the road long ventured and cursed in admiration. To my bones, I’m disaster and your love is my vacation.
So I face you with a smile, but a heart that’s built from turmoil. The pain I can bare, but your tears are my fear.
Do I walk and stop hurting you? Or fight to keep you close? Am I positive because what we’ve become is now my host?
So it seats me to my table to be fed my own heart. I eat until content and gone far beyond my mark.
If I do this to myself, with total disregard how do I, realistically, expect to keep you safe from harm?