Poison Ivy

I don’t understand how to return myself back to where I used to be. My whole body is contaminated with you, my brain, my lips, they crave you more than anything else. I can’t say I love you, I really don’t. Not even if you trick me into mouthing those words. I will never, ever, ever love you again.

But your chemical is in my blood, it’s poisoning me, blocking my airways. I can’t get any rest around a puppeteer like you. Your kind-hearted man worries sick as he lays in his bed after a surgery, a weeping red scar on his chest, as he says he doesn’t want to lose you. How he loves you. You only say these words to him so you don’t hurt his feelings. Why would you say them to me? You do not love me. You do not love anyone. Not even yourself. When I ask you why you stay with him when his attachment makes you feel annoyed, you say he is a safe bet. A safe bet. This is not medieval time, dear. He is more than a safe bet. He is a man who loves you, another human, he has a heart in there, but you seem to dismiss it.

You tell me he annoys you with his attention but you will stick by his side because giving up is not for you. Well you gave me up. You crushed me. I loved you so bad. I felt it since the beginning and now all that is left is ambers. I say we made up because I can’t handle the absence of you. I know there are so many people everywhere but none of them know what you know. I need someone who is not a rebound.

She is in my arms, I feel in the air how she is growing attached to me and I feel like a villain because my heart is out of order. Ever since you and the likes of you showed me what it means to live like an animal in a human skin, I’ve been getting a taste. And she is hugging me but all I feel is that I am empty inside and when I open my mouth no word comes out. I want her to go. I want to be alone. Without you too. But when you say you are going to bed I fold and weep with need for your eyes on me. Watch me, I want to mold into a doll you always wanted, but I am just as rotten inside, I know exactly what I am doing and my raped, perverted, deflowered mind absolutely loves it. It’s much like a substance addiction, I imagine, it is what it feels like. I crave you.

What is it about you? At first I said it must be because you understand me like no other can. But it is not exactly true. You might understand but you can neglect empathy either way. You do not bring me much comfort. Not even If you serve it up that way. No. You will bash me if you like. You will start speaking about your man. You have two faces and so do I.

Because I play along and I say we are friends.

And when you promise to come over for Jekyll and Hyde movies and promise to start touching me, kissing me and seducing me to fall to two sins at once, I don’t even think of saying no. Fuck me, fuck me just like she did with all the pictures and words when she was 16 and I 13. When my brain was first affected and altered forever. Making me into this shameful being, a sex addict, a loveless, complicated, needy whore. I do things I can’t imagine for a quick fuck and I sob afterwards, hitting my walls.

We exchange deprived fantasies of what we would do to each other, we send pictures of us pleasuring ourselves to the thought, you cheat on him for me after you left me and I feel high.

I know it must be some sick manipulation, intentional or not, to compare me to him, to assure me I am more appealing. You know I would do anything for the words you say to me. The situation is nearly amusing. Who do I tell this?

Except it’s the only thing that feels real, because when I try and ask other people to listen, I feel like I am old as dirt and they are just kids. I feel so trapped.

Shock me, tempt me, reject me, do it all over again as I wallow in the sick pleasure of playing with you. But I don’t understand if I can still be fixed once you are done toying with your food and once regret finally comes to me.