To Get Over

It's a pulling away of,
Where my bones are made of metal
Pressed against a bed made of magnet,
And every attempt I make
Is a struggle
Flesh-tearing,
Bone-shattering,
And in the tear-muddled, sweat-muddled blood,
All I'm reminded of
Are the choices I've made
And I laugh, so loud,
It shakes the silence,
But when my laughter dies down,
I am still stuck with the same thoughts,
And I wonder when I'll be able to escape,
And leave behind what is keeping me here.

Death By Love

“My dear, find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover."

-- Charles Bukowski