A love Not

 I was foxed because your hate was as potent as love.

Your obsession mirrored all that Love could possibly free,

When I blamed myself for your lack of commitment,

My pain was the Sea of your seething discontent.

I thought i was a wanton of my intrepid mind,

But in reality I was a prisoner of your thoughts,

For in trying to understand what you and me are about,

I figured out most emphatically, what Love is not.

A beautiful Mess is comforting when it feels the same,

for same is akin to love when pain is also beautiful,

the separation of your desires become my obsessive compulsions

while my compulsions fuel your desirous obsessions;

Epiphany arrives with out much fan fare,

an eternal moment etched out with final flair;

goodbye to a me the one who defines you,

for the prisoner is now you and not a me.