I miss the bad days

the way you hate me

your words reverberate around my head

we are still in conversation

though in my imagination

sex and beastly claws

the way you wanted more than I could give

I cannot live

without thorns a rose wouldn’t be a rose

I am torn our love wasn’t really love without pain

I am just a blood stained hand holding on

a rose

it’s thorns like all your angry words cutting through skin

love is a tragedy we are all flawed within

yet romantic attachment

when it works

can heal the heart and make it beat like it’s going berserk.