honestly i tried making this into a poem,
i really did

i'm running out of artistic ways to tell the world,
that i loved you

cause i keep writing poems about
the touch i've forgotten
the voice that's gone distant
the eyes that lost color

and i can't keep doing this to myself,
this is my last time saying it..
i love you...
i did.

when i sit and write
complex words
on simple paper

i can only think
of your sleepy eyes
or the rosy pink
of your naked thighs

truth is
that is not poetry
only memories
of the girl that left me

every poem that
i never wrote
every word that
i never spoke
every lie that
i’ve said before
that never made it
past my bedroom door

still keep me
in my hospital bed
for the mentally ill
still keep me
in my hospital bed
completely still

“i don’t think
i ever loved
you,
doll. ”

mentioned the
biggest liar of all

yours,
truly.

I let her stab my lungs
I let her steal my tongue
I let her blind my eyes
I let her **** my body
I was still,
I couldn’t breathe
I was numb,
I couldn’t speak
I was blind,
I couldn’t see
I was dead,
I couldn’t bleed

But I let her consume me
because it made her happy.

*c.b.

Not a thing matters
when you waste your life in bed
Not a thing matters
when your mental shocks are dead
Not a thing matter
when you've nearly lost your head
Not a thing matters
when there's nothing left to shed

*c.b.