Who's Holding onto Who?

Better for you if I was bare, Naked to the world, Utterly defenseless. I needed you, scratch that ‘need’, when I am bare. You numbed me to the pain of the wounds stung by the bitter winds on the hill were I still stand.

The sky fades to gray and soon the light will fail.

That is when I need you must, when the world around me is all in darkness.

Anything could be out in that valley, both for ill and for good.

But while I still need you I dare not venture out, and while you are here you dare not let me.

 If I go to that unknown valley I will be lost to you forever, and for the better.

It is that which we both fear, me being on my own.

You thrive on my dependency. You cut me and paint my skin red so you can dress my wounds. You tell me they are my fault so I will thank you when you bandage up my heart. I need you, you have made sure of it, but for now I’m forcing myself to go without, a fast of sorts. And hopefully at the end I will break free of this addiction, that is unless you force your way back in.

The inspiration:

I for some reason or another I write my most emotionally intense works, and arguably my best, in the late hours of the evening, alone with my computer, camping on Facebook. I don't actually do much on Facebook. I don't have to post my every waking thought. I'm not the type of Facebooker that thinks everyone gives a shit about what think I'm thinking every moment of the day, because the truth is they don't. I don't leave very many comments on peoples photos and statuses. what I do do on Facebook is stalk people.

I will spend hours sometimes stalking peoples pages, usually guys that I think are hot or some person or another who usually has lots of drama, with me or with other people. I was doing this just when I decided to go look at the page of someone that I haven't talked to, or really even thought about for awhile. He will remain nameless. But just seeing his posts, however benign, and his photos, however bland, brought something in me that I thought was long gone. I was once again bitter, and at the same time still in love with him. I wanted, and even as I'm writing this still want, what we had back, however destructive it may have been. I want the feel of his body against mine back. I want the to feel loved, if in the end the love was feigned. 

Being with him was painful.It felt that constant rejection, the kind were they act like they have excepted you, invited you in and decided to keep, only to through you into the darkness like a dog. It was like he kept losing me in the coach because he had become distracted by some new, shinier toy. Our 'relationship' was only pain. But he has a way of making pain feel like euphoria.