In Love With a Narc:
By Stephany Spencer–LeBaron
In Love With a Narc:
Why didn’t I turn and run the other direction
When I felt no empathy,
Nor genuine affection?
Thought I would win this lover over,
This sexy simpatico handsome rover.
His double-messages took me by storm.
He love-bombed me beyond the norm!
But this Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde,
Was hiding his pathological side.
It took me too long to spot.
Now look at the trouble and trauma I’ve got.
When he told his first lie,
Cognitive dissonance blocked my Why?
It formed excuses for this guy,
This all-consuming hack;
Giving him second chances
Though he didn’t have my back.
What ever in my psyche did I lack
That made me end up
In this psychopath’s sack?
Why did I think him
The missing link in my life?
All I wanted was to be his wife!
Should I blame Eros’ poison potion
For putting me in this erotic position?
Hey, Cupid, all I can say
Is you sure had a helluva heyday
The day he laid me in the hay!
As I pull straws out of my hair,
I number the ways you got me there:
First you pulled wool over my eyes,
This old woman otherwise wise.
Then you muffled my inner child’s cries.
She was shouting Avoid such guys!
After that, you made me stupid—
A fool in love. Thanks, Cupid!
Next and what’s worse,
You hexed me with your lovesick curse.
Now no panacea nor purse
Can heal my hurting heart I nurse.
I’ve been let down;
Made a consummate clown.
You caught me up to let me drown
In a delirious dream,
Thanks to your covert Cupid scheme!
I should’ve known better,
But better doesn’t count.
Your only purpose is to make people mount.
If ever I get all the egg off my face,
I’ll think any situation better than this place
Of discardation by a Narc from hell
Who arose somehow
From the bottom of my well,
Convincing me he was love—
An angel sent from heaven above.
Hell, I couldn’t tell!
If ever I get over this infatuation,
I’ll thank my True Self’’s survival station
That I’m still together enough
To form this poem to call your bluff –
‘Cause enough is enough!
Now, farewell everyone;
This poem is done.
Someday I’ll scribe another one.
It won’t be like this nor the other.
If you don’t like it, don’t tell my mother!
Tell Cupid instead…
Unless you think that devil is dead.
This being unlikely,
Here’s wishing you luck:
Never let Eros make you moonstruck –
And never let Cupid pick who you fuck!