Bit-her’s

She prefers the cold,
there’s no consoling her…
She’s sweet, but you can tell
that her soul is hurt…
Am i wrong, to move on
from this dysphoria?
Is my prize only pain,
with only more to come…
It gets worst every night,
It makes my mornings numb.
Is it the COVID, or my sordid,
causing sensory stunts?
No news, is good news,
we feel safer quiet.
I associate her smiling
with her style lying.
Common company
to comfort me;
a lot of milage.
She believes in mostly nothing,
and can break a promise.
I’m aware she can’t care;
What’s to keep her honest?
Our arrangement never came with,
the demands of novice….

~~Ganymede Rising