Darling,

Darling, you’ve damned my mind to the depths.

Is this inescapable inkling that's imprinted on my mind your doing?

Suffrage that sneaks into my sunsets, my serenades, my serendipity, my sea foam lapping at the shore.

Touch me again, trick me into tranquil, tease me with transparency.

Really, you loved those riddles that held me for unrequitable ransom, knowing you were unreadable.

A gambit you planned that never abated, unabashed as you abandoned any chance to aid my play.

Consequential, this callous callback, is it not?

To tread the thoughts of your tumultuous waters, treachery and mistrust once more.

If only the imprints you infixed could relieve, but the incessant nagging of your memory doesn’t dwindle.

Oftentimes, my mind drifts back; you were an otherworldly, overbearing, obsessive ocelot of a boy that left open wounds in my history from your obstructive claws.

Now, my life remains in neglect, never nourished, narrowly attended, my mind ever nubilous from the remnants of your naively everlasting napalm.