I have left fragments
of myself
in your hands.
Bits and pieces
bleeding through your fingertips
like fresh cuts.
I am waiting
for you to figure out
how to put back together
what you so willingly
broke.
I am not a replaceable prop
for you to use when you feel like it.

I am held together
by tape and pins inside,
make shift stitches
are the only things
keeping myself from
falling apart.
There are so many chips
In my skin
I do not know
If they are from mine
or everybody else’s
loathing.
My strings are so weak
there is no telling
when I will have to cut them,
and let my limbs
fall far beneath my feet.
You would think
I would be better
at keeping myself
from ruining everything else,
but I have spent too much time
tearing myself up
to know how to
hold anything worth saving
In my bloodied hands.
My lips have been
stretched so thin
from keeping all my secrets
locked inside
I drool blood and grief
through the sutures.
Please use me,
i have no idea
how to do this on my own,
and I am not my own master
anymore.
I don’t know how to exist
without you.
I have been left on the floor
for so long
I am a mess
of broken attempts
to fix something
that cannot be mended.
I am unsure
I will even work right,
but I need someone
to tug on my ropes
and make it seem
like I am more alive
than this.

You are entangled
In the vines of a 
codependent ****.
It will eventually **** the life
Out of you,
but only because
You allowed it too.

You didn’t need to
put yourself in it’s path
and offer yourself
like a sacrifice in waiting
- But you like the idea that someone else has the power to ruin you in the way you are too scared to do.

You didn’t need to
give your essence over
to something that will devour
anything that moves
- But you don’t believe your worth is more than being somebody else’s emotional feed bank.

You didn’t need to
willingly wait for death
while their vines held you down
and choked on your broken pieces
- But you don’t know how to survive in a world that is not dependant on you fixing it while leaving your damage to die.

You will be consumed
by the toxins
of a carnivorous friend,
and you will sit by and watch
while they burn the world down
around you
and still offer
your bones to be their home.

My feet
are burned and bloodied
with the dirt
from which i clawed
my way out of.
Every word
to tumble from my lips
might choke
on the teeth
lining my throat,
but i will still
spit them out.
My arms
may be scarred
with the cuts
of all the thorns
i had to dig through,
and my heart
might be back
in the grave you buried me in,
but I will still
stand in front of you
more alive than
you will ever be.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
There you are,
someone who could
could teach me
what it feels like
to love myself,
and yet
I hold you in my hands
and I ruin
the chance you
hold out to me
so willingly.
I feel so damaged
that the pieces of me
that still cling
sickeningly to my ribs
don’t feel like me anymore,
But tiny monsters
that do nothing
but hurt
everything I touch.
My throat burns
with the words
that I don’t say,
thoughts so loud
that sometimes I want
to scratch them violently
into my wrists
so you can see them
and I won’t drown
in them anymore.
But I won’t.
And I can’t.
And if you don’t
get away now,
you will be nothing
but a broken memory
beneath my feet
that feel like they were made
to walk over you.

I had so much faith
that your hands
wouldn't drop me,
the same way
everyone else's
did.
But as i fell
through your
fingertips
I realised
you were
all the same.