i can’t i believe i let you crawl inside my bones,
let you make a home
out of splintering self-worth and shaky breaths.
self-immolation,
i let you take me over like a fire.
burn up my words before you even listen.
use me up until there’s nothing left, just fuel for your addiction.
still i know i’m the sick one,
cause my hands are always shaking,
and i’ve got kaleidoscope vision.
cause sometimes i miss you for hours
and i replay every kiss, every lie,
until they start to taste the same.
cause it’s been a month, and i’m losing everything.
i think my keys are still in the door,
and i think i left my heart on your floor.
and i’m not saying i want you back, i’m just saying
i was doing fine with the wool over my eyes.
but you laid this house of suspicion on top of your lies,
built me in with no way out,
cause you’re a fire,
and my soul is only free once you burn it down.

You pulled out my tongue to garnish the dinner plate of lies
you liked to tell when we were drunk,
but I guess I was an aftertaste you couldn’t stomach.
And maybe I’m a little tired of it,
but it’s not the kind of thing I like to admit-
that I’ve been pulling my guts out,
like some kind of magic trick.
They’re strewn all around this home we share
like an art installation-
serpentine and ****** they coat the walls,
vines and rotten fruit,
a pulpous stump in the center of the room.