You must be vicious, to drain the flesh from my blood and circumvent the essence of my time.
You must be hasty, to rush my brain with queries of what-ifs and what makes me chime.
You must be jealous, to think my soul belongs to people and places you can’t even climb.
You must be frivolous, to acquaint me with beauty yet thwart my design.
You must be foolish, to think that your delinquencies have left me with anything other than calling you mine.