States of Mine

I use to be your friend, then we were lovers and now I don’t know what State of Mine, is able to define what we have become, this jilted level of love that looks like hate. Each movement, word spoken or look intercepted is bait. Hooked to be caught fished, skinned and cooked.
I use to see you as a permanent state of mine that was accompanied with lifetime.
Now you are just the hand on the glock, a block to positive thinking
You are the anchor that is the cause to me sinking, you leave me in stagnant moments becoming memories of pain, disdain for the male assembly. You have become the representative in my house of no, not, negate. You make me not want to date.
I suppose this is our fate, to be this thin line that has separated our love and the beginnings of hate.

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