Ties on the kitchen floor,
I can't take it anymore.
learn to live, he types.
You promised to be there,
you promised my mother to 'take care'.
And yet you also told me to go to sleep,
That I had to make sure, to keep
Good habits and bad alike,
Ones I've had since I was just a little tyke,
Too young to know better, my friends say.
Even though it started in August and ended in May.
They never approved, you know.
Though we moved oh so slow.
You wanted me to feel safe,
For the bonds of our relationship to never chafe.
They assumed that the tattoos were bad,
Even though your guardian was never mad.
I know that the one of the blackbird is for me,
With its wings spread apart, and eyes open to see.
You would call me darling, they'd laugh and tell
You not to speak in such a way. You told them to go to hell.
I'm afraid I agreed with you, and my friends found
Safer people to attach to, made less rude sound,
And more the noises you'd expect of an afternoon tea,
With cakes and roses and oh, it used to be me.
However, I suppose, that leather holds up well.
And the rings and piercings are a slight tell,
But I prefer to be free and without such
Tightening bonds, as it's a bit much.
So you said you only wanted me to be happy,
That you never intended to get sappy,
And that if it pleased me, he would not
And could not make me stop.
So I severed all connections, although you still
Make me drunk on your very presence, the sense that you could kill
And I realize that a slaughter would make you fall,
But I may say, in light of revelations, that haven't we all?