There is a method in your madness,
A vain and venal nature,
You possess and masquerade.
I wish you were a mere memory,
Not the vast, vertigo inducing
Sentiment, which mesmerizes me,
Which murders me.
Monsters, both of us, darling,
Vulnerable and villainous,
Muddling each other’s feelings, thoughts.
What my mawkish heart could not bear,
Was your vice,
The way you misled me,
Matching the pain others had inflicted.
Marred by this,
I have lost my vivacity,
Violated by your change of mind.