Stay

It’s depressing,

wrestling my better judgment

and losing—

still refusing

to admit defeat

and call it what it is—

pointless.

Did I take you on

as a project,

thinking healing you

might distract me

from the fact

that I haven’t?

I neglect my own wreckage

by trying to fix yours—

or pretending to.

I’m not even sure

what it is anymore.

Am I drawn to someone

as jaded as you

because it feels like a challenge—

as if earning your affection

could prove something,

redeem something in some way—

but it’s seeming

a lot more demeaning

than anything.

And still,

I stay.