My skin burns where your hands once were like acid on light flesh.

I've taken four showers today to try to wash away the pain but your handprint stays on my porcelain skin.

When I was little I believed in myself and others and I'm trying to relocate that unquestiioning faith.

I can't gather enough shattered breaths anymore to be fully breathing and lord knows I dont believe in anyone anymore.

My cheeks are salty from tear stains and there is mascara blanketing the skin under my eyes.

I don't even know why I am crying.

You used to kiss my lips like kerosine and ignite my bones, but I'm quite a dull flame amongst wild fires.

We used to play poker when I couldn't sleep, and although I didn't know the rules, you always let me win;

I'd gather my chips and run through the house, naked.

Some days I take that deck and light the kings and the queens and use the cards to spark my cigarette so that something we loved can finally rekindle my flame.

I don't need games anymore.

I used to walk and it feels like I can barely crawl and maybe I'm just paralyzed with the idea of myself.

You never understood ow my windows would shatter at the whims of the weather but I fear how powerless my mind is becoming;

I can no longer control anything and it scares me to think that maybe, just maybe, I never could.