Never was the way it is.

You've been gone so long, I guess I barely even know you anymore. When I sighed my permission you made short work of running away from me. I'm ready, you insisted, dragging a black plastic bag behind you. All sharp edges and corners. 

You left forever only to return again and again in my heart.

I don't want to be the reason you stay but each time you go, I have to know that gut wrenching destruction of the tenuous bond we try to create.

Each time it's pain
built on regret
followed by anger
built on sadness
followed by grief.

One more time around. It's no wonder I feel dread in between.
I just know there's no use in crying because I'm not letting anyone soothe what they can't untangle.

It's not fair really. How can anyone follow you?