I couldn’t keep it together. Every little thing heightened my senses, every sound, taste, smell made my body burst and shiver. I just don’t know if I can handle this. Is it ever okay to hate yourself? There was one point in time where I couldn’t breath. The last wisp of air left my lips and my eyes turned different shades of gray. My skin wanted to jump off my body. My soul had died. Not the whole thing, just the piece that I locked away and saved for you to share with me.
As that little piece of my poor soul flitted away in the moonlight I cried out to it. “I’m sorry! Please come back! I need you!” But I kept my distance. I knew that if I chased after it, the thought of never catching it made my brain crack. So I stood and watched it fade into the darkness. That extra beat in the dance of my heart beat, that hidden spot of light that bounced around my thoughts, that loud roar of lightning that shocked me into life everyday is gone. But as I reminisce, my heart revives itself. Chanting. Beating hard with angry specks of dust from its previous cracks booming like tribal drums.
As I whisper this spiteful chant, I wince at the elongating stab that just seared through my skull. Don’t fucking pretend you forgot. You knew. You knew how hard I cradled you against my heartache and rubbed you against my bruises relying on the promises of a purer love.
I’m sitting on the sink staring through the back of my pupils wishing you’d leave my thoughts. You’re a cloud in my head, infecting my wounds like an untreated case of MRSA you disgusting piece of distrustful memories. I hate you with everything I have left in me.
You stick to my mind like an unforgiving song and chant in my head your stupid lyrics that I fell in love with making me want to rip every vain of you out of my body and bury them under the earth and watch them rot in the hot sun. Watch you rot in the hot sun. Watch you rot, in the decaying dreams and love notes I wrote on the side of my heart that I buried hoping you’d walk by, dig it up, and taste my agony through your bloodstream you selfish son of a bitch.
I gave myself away to a one-minded creature who collected souls and traded them for a good orgasm. Your feet are swollen with guilt but you ignore the pain and with each step you crush another brain cell inadvertently claiming another victim as your catch and keeping their corpses in your pill bottle in case you need one to heal your broken pieces. You cannot do that. You cant save my broken pieces. I was one of the lucky ones, I was the Moses of the pack of girls you lead into slavery just as determined to lead them out. I cant protect them from you no matter how hard I try.