I. 

my head was starting to overflow
thoughts and memories 
spilling out onto the streets
 so I took an eraser to the etchings that littered the cave walls 
of my mind and now 
it’s a blank canvas 
and baby you are no longer 
my muse.

ll.

my shoulders were beginning 
to ache from years 
of carrying the weight 
of a lifetime of sadness 
so I scrubbed off the blue 
of your name and found only gray underneath 
and you can imagine my surprise when I learned 
there is something worse than pain. 
emptyness.

lll.

two arms are not nearly enough 
to bear the weight 
of hearing you tell me 
you don’t love me anymore 
so I planted the seeds of your words in my wrists 
and when they finally blossomed 
the terrain was too tattered to recognize the words that once ****** the life from my very veins 
like weeds 
and maybe that’s for the best.
llll.

when the bruises began to form 
in the places around my waist 
you once held onto so tightly 
like it meant the difference between life and death 
like my hips were the only handles left on Earth and you were afraid to fall in love, I realized bruised lips are not the same thing as tough love.

lllll.

my thighs shrunk everytime I
said no 
I’m not hungry, I already ate, I’m fine thanks,
 and the bigger the space between
 my thighs grew, the better I felt knowing I was making room for you
 without realizing 
until it was too late that the more area you occupied, the less I had to grow.

I’m wilting.

llllll.

my knees are shaking like
 the leaves were
 the day you told me you no longer wanted to try and love me
 so my calves are swaying and 
my toes are curling and these lines twisting around my thighs 
are begging 
to be 
opened .
lllllll.

my wrists are starting to overflow
nightmares and heartbreaks 
spilling out onto the streets 
so I took a razor to the etchings 
that littered the cave walls
of my arms and now 
it’s a ****** canvas 
and baby you are no longer 
my muse.