Vanity Fair

Until now, I'd lost all hope,

Cement was poured into my heart.

With some things I just cannot cope,

To be stone is better than to fall apart.

Because I have been searching,

I have been desperate.

My body's attempt at purging,

Was to find a new tenant.

Someone to love what's left of you,

Right out of what's left of me.

The love between foreign sheets was my cue,

That I couldn't resurrect a memory.

I knew I was deprived of someone secure,

Who wouldn't put my priorities on a shelf.

Someone with the patience to always reassure,

...That's why I chose to love myself.