the ink of her penned odes to another bleed through the page and stain my heart, it flows through my veins, attacking my marrow, etching her words into the double helix of despair that makes up the flawed being, barely being worthy of being a witness to her brilliance, being less than a human being, but worse than all of that

knowing that i belong to her.

the ink of her penned odes to another burn through the page, igniting a firestorm that renders my heart to ash, leaving nothing behind but a swirl of smoke that faintly whispers her words into the aether, transforming the landscape into a parody of want and need, a voyeuristic glimpse into the things that no matter how desperately wished, fail to be

yet still, i belong to her