You fit me like a glove
The problem with you is that you use the thread of someone’s love to stitch closed your festering, infected wounds. You stitch it up and as the infection grows it pushes on the points of stitching and so you think it’s the stitching; the love that hurts; that doesn’t belong; that needs to go. When you can’t bare it anymore, you cut loose the stitching and that disgusting green pus comes pouring out of you, which rightfully so, scares the living daylights out of you. So you go running for some new lover’s stitching- thinking this will be the cure. One day, you will go into your wounds, clean them out for real and use the stitching of your own love to sew them back up. Upon those scars, your lover will knit you a fine glove and the stitching will feel warm.