Every battle
Retreating a step
Or two
Each time
Surrendering
A tiny piece of me.
Not missing much
At first
Eventually
Bearing a wound
Throwing off
My balance
And serenity.
Nursing the hurt
Cultivating the lust
Which wasn’t even love.
Wrestling with thoughts
Of losing you
Needlessly worried
For there was no more to give
And hungry
You moved on
Looking for fresh kill.
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