Your addiction, your affliction

The object

of my affliction.

The concert stage

of my failure.

The fiction

in my confession.



How you reveal me, baby

in directions I didn't know

existed

until our inception.



And now I'm a mess;

A collage of exposed insecurities

at best.

From distant, the photo patch

seems almost appealing,

intriguing,

until you approach

and get that feeling:

Raped and rejected

that what you sought the most

was merely

a well-blended mistake

against the backdrop

of your fleeting hopes.



So I won't take you out

to our lake

anymore,

because this time

I think you'll drown me

in my reflection.



And who can blame you?

You found me

out to shame you

invardently, but loudly;

And there was only so much

you could take.

So much noise

my music could make

before the cacophony

broke you.



I am the object

of your affliction.

The hope you had

in a Halloween curse

Costumed as a benediction.

I write believable fiction

And yeah, you're the latest verse.

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