The Love Cycle of A Leech

I cannot love without turning you into a victim of my heart.

I fear I cannot love.

Once a butterfly drinks all of the nectar from a flower, does it stay?
Does the butterfly come back for more? Or is the flower drained of its life?
When a person finishes a bottle of water, do they keep the plastic bottle?
Do they save it and use it again? Or do they discard it?

When you finish a show, how many times can you watch it before boredom?
Is it still your favorite show? Do you find another show and get bored of the other?

When you build a snowman, do you cry when it melts?
Do you care for the snowman? Or shake it off when the sun comes out?
As you grow old, does your childhood toy still get played with?
Does it dust in the basement? Do you still love it the way you did?
How many years can you trick or treat before it's considered boring and immature?
Do you still find joy in it? Are you avoiding it because it’s not considered cool anymore?
How long does it take you to get bored of the same routine at work?
Not long I’d assume. I get bored at work fast, and I love what I do.
How long can you sit by a fire before you get tired and go to bed?
Do you cherish the warmth until the fire dies? Do you feed it wood? Or do you put it out and never relight it again?

It becomes boring when you’ve squeezed everything out of something you love.
Maybe that’s my problem. 

I drain people of everything they have, I devour all their love until it becomes dull.

Tell me why I hate being mistreated, but being treated right becomes old after a few months.
If my adrenaline isn’t rushing when with them weather good or bad, tell me why it’s boring.
I'm convinced that instead of being shot with a bow of love,

My heart was doused with repellant.

And I thought I had done nothing to deserve this.

But It turns out that I was greedy. 

When I took a bite of you, you bled warm roses of color,

I want more than just your roses.
I wanted more love

I wanted More attention.

I wanted more.

I want more.

And before I knew it I had bit off more than I could chew,

More than you could handle,

And you bled what was left of your gore.

To my surprise it had changed.

You bled wilted roses, the shards of your heart, it’s thorns.

I salvaged your rot to remember your blossoms I once loved,

But what was once, is no more.

Because you are now useless and lifeless,

And that makes you just as useless to me.

I missed your attention.

But I never missed you.

I never missed any of them but her.

I never will. 

So would it ever really matter how I felt?

I don't want to be alone,

But being miserable forever is just as bad.

Now I sit here, debating which is worse,

which one I’m more afraid of,

but Sooner or later I realized,

I cannot love.

Author's Note

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