Everything was foggy and I was breathless
with the thought of the corners of the room haunting
my existence with a smile. The shutters
shuddered with sadness and I could relate all too much,
and with every pill I took came another in the waking;
and with every drink I took came another suppressed
memory I was trying to swallow down harder than
your suicide attempts and how I thought they were always my fault.
The room becomes darker; my hands are hard
with pain; I'm waiting for their essence to consume
me once again.
These are not dreams, and I knew they would come back to haunt
and remind me of the fact that
every little thing in this world doesn't come without a price.
My hands are shaking; I'm surprised yours aren't.
I whispered into the night that I loved them, but
with every breath came an exhale filled with every terror
I tried to hide. I knew, they knew, the world knew
I was a lost cause, but they were aware that hell would be
heaven compared to the life I was living.
My hands were homes for all the things that
were meant to rot and the sunlight never wanted
their rays to touch the skin of something
so terrorized with pain that they would never know
what to do with the ashes.
I'm shaking again. This has become familiar.
They licked my soul with black tar tongues and kissed
it goodbye every night to sleep.
I was so tired, but they would never let me sleep without a
I dreamed of all the things they loved and I didn't,
and every fire I died in came another morning I awoke
with sweat on my brow and shaking hands.
This has become familiar.
The rivers they drowned me in were filled with the tears
I shed every night as I wished hell would take me
as their own, but they were all too smart for me.
I shook with purity and they fed on it; every bite
was another day I would live without a mother
and another day I would live without happiness.
Refuge was never found, for they always knew
I was going to try to hide and they always
were waiting for me to come and try to live without their
pain, without their open arms.
I lived a life filled with their smiles and
broken teeth; I lived a life with their broken teeth and
split tongues; I lived a life with their split tongues and
Everything comes with a price. I learned this the hard way.
My nights became tiresome, and I awaited their
presence like the steps my father took up the stairs and
into my room to tell me what I had Done Wrong and
What I Should Have Done.
This has become familiar.
I'm broken in every way they crave and split in
every way they aren't. This is how
Every moon lit night came with rivers of blood
pouring down my ribs like the pain
was meant to feed the souls of the ghosts
haunting my bed frame. The grass
shone with their spit and the water lilies
shook in fear of their scissored hands,
a feared gardener, a broken promise.
I'm scared to go to sleep now and they made it this way.
They knew what they were doing to me and loved
every second of heart break I experienced repeatedly
like a broken record skipping to the same
song lyrics about a boy that will never
love you, never love you, never love you,
My lips are bleeding with shame and my shame is bleeding
Their hands cascade across my face and their nails scratch
my back like a girl in love, but I'm not looking
for any kind of commitment right now, especially
when the things haunting me are the same things that
will love me to the end,
and I can't grasp how anything could be
so harmfully pleasurable in ways that
make the forest fires jealous of the sparks
in her heart. Oh, alas, here comes another
frightened girl, another frightened girl, another frightened girl
filled to the brim with lust and mistakes.
I've kissed the Devil to sleep and I have given God my heart,
and it never seems to be enough for either.
The leaves loved the branches only during the summer,
I always hated the summer and how it expected something out of me.
There is a brand on my heart that begs empty parking lots to
give street lights a reason to hug strangers to sleep in the
middle of the highway, but it is too deep
for comprehension. The ghosts are going
to see the tears of a girl with a burnt heart and burnt lungs
and everything else charred black because of
their hands. This is to be expected, really,
would you love anything with the gift
of everlasting happiness?
feelings are not real.
I'm in bed, I'm trying to sleep, I'm crying again.
This Has Become Familiar.