Not a love letter!

Yesterday our love-hate story had a plot twist,
Which I’ll elaborate in a gist,
No, I don’t love you,
But I don’t hate you either,
Let me be more
comprehensible,
In common terms,
I’ll say “it’s complicated”
Yesterday we had spent
our first,
no second,
no third,
no fourth,
Wait!
I’ve lost the count,
But yeah we had spent another dark night together,
I couldn’t sleep cuddled in your arms,
Or probably chocked,
Both are synonyms for me now,
Yesterday,
Instead of being warm,
Your hug was toxic,
More toxic than those sleeping pills that gave up on me long ago,
But still, I’m stuck to them,
Just like I am to you,
You know sometimes you love to play with your pain,
True for us, though for them it’s insane,
Having a tiresome day again,
And having this realization of coming back to you,
Has made this day heavier,
Heavier than those loud yet peaceful tick-tocks of the clocks,
That never halts,
It’s strange how your most comfortable lap,
Is now claustrophobic for me,
You are a perfect definition of sadist,
But still my only therapist,
The only difference in your therapy is,
You are both the curator and creator of this anguish,
When we used to count millions of stars,
Sleep was never a bar,
The only bar existing at that time was that “chocolate bar”,
Remember you gifted it to me on our first ever coffee date,
Now every day we meet we have numerous shots of coffee,
Bottoms up and empty cups,
I think now when I’ll draw the symmetric criss-cross on this wrist skillfully with that blade,
I’ll bleed coffee,
It’s strange why you never came with a warning label,
It should’ve been clearly mentioned that you will cause me
Insomnia,
Trauma,
And cavities too,
(What else can we expect from having excess chocolates)
But this is not the sole reason for my rage,
I seriously want to turn the page,
And see other colors too,
Apart from black,
The burning reds,
The feverish pinks,
The bright whites,
The neon greens,
The vivacious purple,
The skillful orange,
The dirty yellow,
The calm blue,
And the dull greys too,
I know your black is a mixture of it all,
But now I want to understand the process of its rise and fall,
Your shady attractive behavior is not turning me on now,
The pain and anxiety are not giving that peace somehow,
So here is a letter to your mystic realm,
To the demise of my love’s anthem,
To the creator of these crescent moons under my eyes,
To my companion for watching that real crescent moon of the magnificent dark sky,
And to the endless mayhem,
This is a letter to you my forced soulmate
A letter to 3:00 A.M.
Not a love letter,
A simple proposal,
Would you like to cuddle with me and have a good night sleep?
Let’s take all the colors and paint new dreams,
Because the day has come to defeat those nightmares and screams,
You are and will be the most special hour of all the 24,
So would you like to convert “its complicated” into “it’s not so complicated anymore”?