Heres dometning i splat on paper while I was having a mental breakdown..

You’re a pathological liar. So why I’m I staying with you.

You lie to my face, as tears flood my eyes, as you chip away at what is left of my trust and heart.

So why do I hold the flower that you are.

I think it’s beautiful, I know the flower can bloom. Atleast I think it can bloom.

Yet I don’t see that it’s been picked, unrooted, and being held by my gullible hand while the thorns you possess pierce through and make me bleed more and more the longer I hold you.

How can you bloom when you aren’t grounded, when you aren’t connected to the soil that is able to nourish you. There’s no going back. This is who you are

But the beauty of what I think you could become makes the blood worth while in the moment..

Yet I don’t realize one day I’ll run out of blood, and waiting for you to bloom will be the death of me and my soul.