Four Lads Stacked In A Trench Coat

Yours Mine Yours

You share like a toddler;
as in, you don't.
It's impossible to be a whole
when one half refuses
to play nice and
do their part.
If that's your way
of saying you're
frightened of me leaving,
you're weaving a fictitious fable
in your arrogantly
troubled mind. All day,
it's what I hear when you
feign affection.
Everyone sees through it.
Your kisses stain
more bitter than the wine
you spilled on me when
I last tried to say goodbye.
I'm no longer willing
to call your bluff. I'm
taking what's mine
and rebuilding my ego
without the aid of your
far-sighted petulance.
I should've done so years ago.