I always thought
I’d die just once
and someone loved would grieve;
     – would hold my hand,
        would cry with me
and pray I wouldn’t leave.

But you played games
behind my back,
while to my face you lied;
     – perhaps I should
        have fought for you
instead, I stepped aside.

So now I’m faced
with many deaths
which numb with subtle skill
     – enough to harm,
        enough to hurt,
but not enough to kill.