Addiction to the pain .

I might insist you Leave,  and call you back again.  It's only the repetition my addiction to your pain,  you gave me sadness to hold, you asked me not to cry, you burried me within it hoping I would die,  some pain is mortified,  some just little grief,  but pain when love is the part of aching,  makes sadness a relief,  it's funny how a truma bond can still sever and destroy what is good, how certain pain means nothing,  and others are  understood,  how crushing hurts the heart when ripped , but clipped wings says it all, when a  bond that's made in tenderness doesn't hurt at all.