A Poem on Support

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Sometimes I wonder why I support you. You are vicious with delicious taste, and we have experienced a spread of tales from hate to a sense of good hearted fate, the immoral and soul burning – all which has dictated the churning of this relationship we have. I for one am glad, that I met you. Even though my words might vex you, you’ve seen most of my texts too. You retaliate with confusion as if you can never be wrong, so though knowing my heart is as tied as yours why does it feel as if it remains in your jaws?Why do I feel like a dog waiting on all fours when you used to make me feel like a lion who roars, every time we scored and I ignored the truth behind our suits. We aren’t so glorious after all, and now that I have seen you fall I can barely endure the misery we face.
You wanted the support of my love and trust, it may rust during times of disbelief or the bitter arguments we seek to reap the ideas that have seeped into our love. I do not know how to approach you anymore, any exchange feels like I must wear gloves. Careful and praying on the right touch, because such a connection is like religious lust. Abiding by your faith is just, justifying the violence and benevolence – how wayward such admiration can be. To see both ends of morality in one being. How rewarding is your love when I’m searing. Jeering on your bad qualities but giving them life when love fails it is shearing. I am a sheep that followed you by love and now I am stuck in the mud.
Cold, naked and vulnerable as I fold my pride in wait for another time. A fright in the night or a fray during the day, a thrill in the evening which can leave me gleaming or scheming on a tipsy end. Ironically only you can shove me back to sanity, while the rest of the World banters me. It’s like a never ending fantasy, stale in taste but with such coldness I claim to be sick. With vix rubbed into my chest, I expect the taste to return along with our best.

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