The Madness

I woke up smelling like her. I should have, I was in her bed. I wasn't sure how I had gotten there, but I didn't want to leave. Things are like that, with her. Never knowing what to expect. Instead of going from A to B she rakes the entire alphabet against my spine, and I am grateful just to smell her. For someone who is almost in control all the time, it is maddening. For her attention I would fight battles or destroy planets. None of that makes any difference to her. She doesn't want me the way I want her, and yet she hangs it out in front of me. Turning me into a dog, salivating at the sound of a bell in some sort of sick pavlovian experament. And I will bark, I will run. As if written in stone a million years ago, unweathered or faded by time. I can't have her, so close to my chest. I don't want anything to do with her until there is a chance. That I might smell her perfume, heroin, in my nostrils and in my veins. A poison in my heart. I poison myself and she is too cruel to even delight in my pain...