Rooted.

I don't know what it is
that gives me away.

But clear as day,
your intentions make
me cold and obvious,
quick to vanish into
the thick distance
away from friends,
and all existence.
I must go away, away, away.

I stranded myself this time,
made a huge, stupid, childish
mistake.
And I hurt you, dared your logic
to scream its injustice,
so deeply rooted in the form of
a storm.
I upset the center and the balance.

And you've been nothing but a
Saint.

So I guess it's ok if you don't
come to lay with me,
if I fall asleep and wake up
alone, it's ok, everything is ok.
I don't need warmth.
I don't need love or compassion,
I'm barely human, just an attachment,
sucking the life from your lips.