You sadist, you wound me, heal me then re-open me. It’s sad to think you’re the the one I chose for this self-inflicted torture. I’m your masochist, the vessel for this amassment of emotions. I feel pain while you feel satisfaction. My pleading goes unanswered. I beg for more but wish for the opposite. “Pain is love”, or so I’ve been told. So I put up with it. What once bloomed returned to a plantlet. You’re drifting, further, I remain, waiting. You come back for a moment and in that moment I repair the broken memories. I have you once again. Then the pain resumes, therefore the love resumes. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll watch you when you drift cause eventually you’ll be back and it’s better to be yours than no one’s.