Better broken and torn than dead.
Another being carved on my skin.
Love means I will not get to leave.
Sullen, a stomach full on dread,
And it can't come from misbelief,
My, oh my, what a mess I made.

Your presence a pretty band-aid,
Our meetings are so, so brief
Usually turning dread to shreds.

A strange ache brings me relief.
Reaching for my heart as a thief
Ending my suffering. Let's be friends

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Phaestian, in the year 1001 AF.