You are a discarded plastic bag,
forever blowing away on the wind.

I can never catch you,
you are too fast.

Why are you running?
Forever, you are running.

Even when you are standing still,
your eyes are still fleeing.

Once it was charming,
a game of hard to get.

Now it is depressing,
always trying to catch you.

You are creased jeans
frayed at the cuff.

Tattered and ripped;
all loose ends.

Why don't you take better care?
You are reckless with yourself.

Every time I put you back together
you fall apart somewhere else.

Once it made me feel useful,
you soothed my nurturing instincts.

Now I feel burdened by your
unwavering dependency.

You are a porcelain doll,
locked away behind a painted face.

Unchanged for all eternity,
your emotions carefully hidden away inside.

Why do you hide from me?
I thought love was about sharing.

Even when we are together,
I still feel alone.

Once I admired your stoic nature;
you were my lifeline, my rock.

Now your dead eyes
leave me grasping empty air.

You are a plastic bag,
and I am done trying to catch you.