With the utmost sincerity,
your beguiling selfless pursuit to love,
is only a subliminal flesh-eating laceration,
that is begging for a new host to propagate.

You are the embodiment of being counterfeit,
tasked with only spreading your self-directed sorrow.

Yet you still persist,
after ever-grander variations of clarity were put forth,
that when one is not looking for love,
this is not an invitation for your parasitic existence to fix them.

Leave us alone,
for we have had and will for always love for two,
by making the world more vibrant without your toxic aid,
and your incessant acquisitive pestilence. 

We are whole and will happily deploy our suffocating vines,
to protect all that was built by that we have lost.

By the one we never stopped loving.