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I love you more than my life,
but even that is insufficient.
There is never enough,
no matter how hard I struggle
to weather the tides
of your ever-burgeoning cravings.
I am drowning
in my love for you –
flailing futilely -
held under by the turbulence
of your needs;
aspirating the saline
of self-sacrifice;
choking on the kelp
of repressed diatribes,
but swallowing terminally.
I’ve myself to blame.
Perhaps you are only the reef,
but while you scuttle away
incognizant -
I see there is no life raft -
and I sling buckets of fuel
on the sinking
love-wrecked pyre
that was once
my joy.
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