Venom or Flame...

Perhaps...

Perhaps poison was not the right word. I'm more like venom. The cure, the solution, the saving grace in the right form and a small enough dose.
Localized spreading pain, palpitations, nausea when it comes directly from the source...Cardiotoxins, neurotoxins, cytotoxins, hemotoxins...All components in the bite of a venomous snake.

The sad thing is, I don't have that effect on people I don't care about.
It's only the ones who end up close enough to whisper to me.

Or maybe I'm like fire. The pull of the warmth and the light is strong, yet those who come too close to the flame get burnt. Or catch on fire...

I'm empty and he's been angry that I gave away part of me that was no longer mine to give.
He has questions that I cannot answer. Some simply because of my inability to be coherent, others because they are for her and I simply do not know the answers.

I pulled her in and pushed her away, not out because I simply couldn't, but away as hard as I could. And it feels like pouring alcohol in a wound, like taking something you loved and breaking it because it couldn't be yours, like dragging a knife across an open wound and watching yourself bleed out.
I feel guilty about pushing her away, guilty for how bad it feels, guilty for the ways I feel, guilty for the ways I have made him feel...

I have not spoken to her, and she has not spoken to him. I feel as if something beautiful was at my fingertips, and I couldn't tone down my flames enough not to set the whole fucking world on fire.

I don't understand either. Anything. Either of them. Or me.
I know nothing anymore. Except that her being in love with him wouldn't have had to be part of the arrangement. Simply to share me and enough of herself to make it work.

He said that we were beautiful together, like two pieces of the same person. He never asked for all of both of us, just enough to make a whole.

I was never able to find the words to tell her why feeling the same about him as she does for me was not what he asked for, or that he wasn't asking for her to be his like I am. Simply for her to be mine to storm with and him to be the shelter.
I was never able to find the words to ask her why she felt it had to be otherwise to work.

I am only good with the written word...It pours out to be preserved on pages before it burns itself out in my mind. When I open my mouth my meanings get all jumbled up, and by the time I realize they need to be untangled to be right, it's too late...

I look around me at all of the beautiful things I have created and broken, all of the things I set fire to by getting too close, the people I have bitten, I see the effects of the cardiotoxins spreading from my bite to those who matter most...
I'm all burnt up and all burnt out. There is a space between me and all that I love, but really, perhaps it's just the emptiness within me...Nothing solid left, just the ashes and remnants of burning too damn hot and biting too damn hard. People think that I am infinite, that when empty there can always be more because somehow that is who I am. But I'm all burnt up and all burnt out.