Self-Sabotage

I'd yearn for you so gently-

So gentle as demise.

Would heal you off your ache.

Leaving mine- as my chastise.

Be the antidote for my wit,

With no words from the wise.

You recoil vintage traumas,

Your absence, in precise.

"Such aching mystery hides,

In your star-dust glimmer eyes."

If truth be told, to my soul inert;

How shall then will I rise!