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it's not that i need you,
though ij've experiemented
and felt why i do.
it's not that i've tried quitting you,
"oh, maybe a different one," becomes
the only acceptable change of route.
it's not how badly you create me,
one day without you, and i much
prefer to shrivel and die away.
it is how oddly you resemble a poison.
taking in your toxicities only pleases
others, but in turn, i still hate you,
at least a little less than that.
it is the smiles and approving nods,
when others hear about us --those
create me a bit, hearing how then
is my existence approved.