Watching eyes watch eyes
I didnt worship the screaming in my ears
until it became part of that distant feeling i remember
And, oh, the games we play
as we continue to use each others hearts as punching bags
or inspiration for the next creation
we find the hate we feel for one another
paralleled by the love
the paradox that always leaves one longing
while the other holds on briefly,
only to loosen the grasp again
and the vicious circle continues.
And spring has always been our season.
Always as the snow melts my nostrils fill with that familiar,
foul stench of you that I adore so much.
Will you come this spring?