The Narcissist

When I met you

I knew we were different.

I didn't know the differences we held

would be so stark.

I was a lover of all things.

A tree hugger.

A hippie.

A happy, harmonious human.

You

were just mean.

And manipulative.

And even though I saw it,

the fixer in me took you on as my next big project.

A project as big as a sinkhole.

And no matter how much of myself I gave,

I could never fill you up.

Playfulness was not an option for you.

You thrived on madness,

being miserable,

manic,

Melancholy

You refused to be happy,

while I refused to hang it up.

So I continued to chip away

at your isolated,

intoxicated,

impatient,

impaired insecurities

and you

continued to take full advantage of my giving nature.

Sucking the positivity out of me

like a vampire sucking life out of the last virgin

so he can gain immortality.

I could set my watch by your vicious cycle.

I always knew

when you were grasping at the last strands of your life-saving rope,

the last strands of peace,

the last strands of me

and no matter what my logical mind said,

I always opened the door and refused to refuse you

despite what was best for me

I let you lay with me,

and I stroked your head and your ego

while you fleetingly rambled

about disgust,

disappointment,

deceit,

Death.

I massaged your doubts away

until you fell asleep,

proclaiming your love for me

through drunken lips,

only for you to wake up

restored,

renewed,

replenished

and remiss,

while I had to lock the door behind you,

heavy,

hurting

and heartsick for us both.

I don't know how many times

I will unlock that deadbolt for you.

Maybe until my wrists are beaten,

busted,

broken

and bruised.

Or maybe,

just maybe, last night was the last night.