Nobody Likes The Honest Questions

If I asked you
to accept the fact that my heart
is too small
to love you as you deserve,
and asked you
to care for me
despite the black dog that follows me around,
and asked you
to be happy with my inattention,
my neglect,
my inconstant fawning,
my inconsistent adulation…
If I asked you
to give up your skin for me,
pull out your nails for me,
break your teeth for me,
peel out your eyes for me…
If I asked you
to breathe life back into me
when I went so deep
I died again and again
and left you to revive me on my own…
If I was nothing good for you,
do you think you could love me anyway?

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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