I like being really tired before going to sleep.
It feels good to fight one last thing before bed, even if that thing is me.

Why does the room smell flowery
like spilled wine and longing

I rub the damp mop along the oak
darkening its grain
Beautiful in ruin
again

‘You’re so wet for me baby’ they say
‘You’re not saying no’
Rinse repeat

It hurts I say
‘That’s normal ‘

It is what it is what it is what it is
My words stop

‘You’re so quiet’ they say

If I unzip my abused vocal chords I won’t be able to stop the noise
Keening screaming bursting like a dam

It’ll fill up my head
My ******* bone marrow
Where do I begin and where do you end flush against me

I am good at being quiet
I am good at being small
I am good at being needed
I am good at pleasing others
I am good at saying yes when I mean;
Stop
Get me out
You are choking me
I can’t breathe
There is blood on my teeth
On my hands

I held you after you assaulted me for the first time and you told me about what was plaguing your mind
So I comfort you
Rinse repeat
Tell you I’ve got you through gritted teeth

Is that so bad is that so bad I am needed so why is it so ******* bad

You fill my lungs acrid and burning
Inhale exhale
Inhale exhale
Wd and vcka coat your lips like a gaudy lipgloss

Wash away the taste of you
Clean my teeth with dettol
Empty my veins clean the dirt and grime away  
Trying to forget the way you coat my teeth

Your mouth is so good baby’ you say
It is bad honey and expired milk


It is not being touched since
It is not sleeping
It is wanting to be held but being terrified of the thought
To be held is to be vulnerable
Split me open
Look inside

I can’t decide
if I’m comforted by the fact
that every thought  
I’ve ever had
has probably been had
before

And I don’t know
which is worse
That we are, perhaps
incredibly,
undeniably
not special at all
Or that we incredibly,
undeniably
are

I don't care
I never did
I never will

I don't care about the stabs
I don't care about the lies
I don't care about the loss

I never did
I never will

I don't care about you abandoning me in the middle of nowhere or making me doubt every single person I meet or forcing me to look at the mirror and despise the foolishness I had.

I don't care about all the above.

I try to convince myself every night that I don't.
But, I do;
I fully keenly wholesomely do care and my care was my doom.

I am rotting
and poetry falls from my hands
like leaves
from a hollow tree.