300. A Means To An End

She burned a hole through the pocket of my empathetic soul,

the very thing that gave me life; now reduced to a charred ash. 

I was unsure that I’d ever recover from the next great sorrow,

or that I’d fall into the chaos of its aftermath. 

Pretending that I deserved my soul in the first place,

when I abused it in some way, to some degree.

I no longer wish to participate in this abuse, 

and I’d much prefer to live in a consistent reality;

and reject the inconsistent way that She lived her life with me. 

She loved me, then unloved me, then loved me again,

and now I wonder, had it all been a means to an end?