i am a butterfly, but you wouldnt let me die.

my love is like nothing - i say only that it knows pollution is responsible for the beautiful sky, & it finds no fault in this.
lets be amazing, because right now i'd rather write nothing than write about us,
& maybe thats the problem.
i'd love to be flattering - to be proud.
but you're just another depressive,
demanding respect & upset when you dont get it,
you've got no love of life & that leaves little room for me.
where would you like me to take this?

i'm worried that your depression will outlive my affections,
that maybe i'm not a cure & maybe we wont work.
but being an artist doesnt give you the license to mess up every situation.
someday you'll forget the pacing, how you announced your latest poetry,
"your presence is punishment enough."
but i dont think it comes close.
i'll miss things like deception, your love of alliteration & the look on your face when i'd catch you off guard
please believe me when i say i'm done - its not true, but you need some convincing.

before & after