The Narcissist’s Favorite Game

Geometric Photography on Unsplash

Your fingers control
When I’m near, I’m far.

You flip my string
And pull me close.

Open your hand
and I fall away

Into the loneliness,
the rejection.

Like ice around a cherry
Cold, stinging sweetness.

Frigid lips and tongue,
Only the memory remains.

But that, too, is getting lost
In the emotional haze.

Up…please pull me in.
I return to your hand.

Down…spiraling away,
Longing for tenderness.

But, this time, it’s too late.
I choose to “walk the dog” alone.