A sort of poetry.

I call it love.

She is stuck inside my head.
Running in circles, she drags a blade along the blackboard that covers the inside of my skull.
In her eyes, it's simple trickery.
Simply a game that she only wins at.
A type of pain constantly rushes over my body when I think of her,
Yet a part of me is happy when I remember her smile.
When I remember her laugh or voice.
She is breaking me and doesn't even realise it.
Countless times,
I hand my heart over to her without any realisation.
And countless times,
It is left unattended in mid air with no hands to hold it. No one to keep it safe while it is out of my reach.