Poor Fool That I Am

Poor fool that I am, I fumbled over the jagged pieces of your broken heart.  
Cut myself in the process, but to me you were worth it.
I tried to piece together what had never once been offered me.  
Poor fool that I am, I choked down my words of affection.  
I tortured the lips that ached to kiss your pain away.  
Deprived my hands of the sweet nectar of your skin.
I cursed the heart that loved you beyond reason.
I died daily.
Because being with you, without being with you is the sickest form of torture anyone could think of.
Stuck in an endless cycle.
Because being with you is agony.  
And not being with you is unimaginable.
So I stayed.  
Sweet pain.
I stoically bore my cross.
Poor fool that I am