Your hand, grasped tightly
With the promise to never let go.

You kept your promise.
But I came to realize that your grasp was too tight
Too suffocating
Not right.

I commend you for keeping your word,
And I fault you for my wounds.

For it was you,
You with the razor stuck to your palm,
Blade facing out.

You who would graze it across thighs and
Cut
Them
Up
Into
pieces.

Cut
Me
Up
Into
Pieces -
Fragments -
Nothing.

You kept your promise.
But it hurt to hold on, the blade pressing against my hand
And cutting deep deep into the flesh.

And so I was the one who had to break the bond,
The promise,
And let go.

Still I itch and pick at the wounds that contain the memories of you;
Of the promises I broke,
And the scars you left behind.

do you ever feel like the weight of a word
is heavier when it’s whispered?
like lowercase letters carry
all the fragility of a breaking heart,
soft and unsteady,
afraid to be seen but desperate
to be heard?
sometimes i write like this,
as if quiet will make it easier
to be brave.

manipulate me,
hold me in your arms—
‘i’ve got you,’ you say.

a moment later,
you take my arms,
slice away my flesh,
‘i’ll be back tomorrow.’

please do.
i can’t live without you.
my eyes see nothing,
nothing but you.

your arms, the same that
once cradled me,
have become knives.

the sun rises again,
my warmth
is it gone?
oh well

'God, you're such a failure.'
As if you could do better?

'Can he do anything right?'
One word. Boxing.

'You ruin the entire team!'
Ok, ill just leave you with one less player.'

Failure gives you a chance to fly again.

is it worth
children losing homes
mothers losing children
children loosing friends
is it worth all the red
all the hunger
all the sorrow
just for some pieces of land