Teenage Heart Break

Welcome to high school, where you’ll spit acid out your stomach onto the floor and dry heave over the sink. You’ll wear hoodies every day to hide your shaky hands and bloody knuckles from the wall you tore down the night before because they didn’t call. You’ll rip your veins apart before a class presentation just so you can go home sick when the only thing you’re really hurting are your wrists. I know I’m brave enough to save them but would they even think twice to save me? Everything is so temporary.

I used to hate change, until I realized how quiet it was. It whispered in their ears and snuck into their head and hid between busy thoughts. Simple. They wouldn’t see it coming. I think that when the water rises, so slow and silent and it wraps its self around you in the form of comfort and routine, you fail to realize you’re completely submerged, until you look at yourself in the mirror, to see you’re dripping wet. And you can’t breathe at all, but you’re so used to holding in your breath by now. It didn’t hurt. I promise. I zoned out more and focused less. I didn’t try to fix It, I became accustom to it. I've just turned cold. My blood doesn't flow like water pipes in mid-February anymore. So, when you were mine in the morning and a hole in my chest three hours later, it swallowed me whole. I didn’t know it could happen so quick. A lightning bolt of heart break surfaced but there was no thunder to warn us. See, this wasn’t your typical serial killer movie scene or Hollywood heart break. Just a dull ache that could be drowned out if you just pretended it wasn’t there. I continued to find myself ending more and starting less, wanting to spill my blood like ink for a verse…

It’s just hard to stay calm, especially when the flowers growing at the bottom stomach have died. I learned that you can’t water flowers with vodka. Now, they’ll cynically let you drop onto the floor so hard, knowing they were the only thing holding your frail body in place. I’ll never understand how you’ll be so unconditional to somebody and still feel so empty inside. Like when your thoughts start consuming you whole and you realize how deep “us” really is… There is no more room for saving “us”. The waters keep rising so high, that it gets to the point where it’s just you OR me. I can’t save “us” from drowning when I have the whole world hanging off my shoulders.  I got tired of the same vile taste you’d leave on my tongue every time we’d kiss. But there was no more room for hate. The damage was already done. I ended up killing myself inside, drinking, slowly find myself enslaved to the feeling of my throat burning after every drink. Guess what they say is true... You can never make that person your home because when you least expect it, they’ll choose to close the door in your face and change the locks. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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