Don’t tell me that I don’t
care
because you weren’t
there.
You weren’t there for my
sleepless nights.
You weren’t there when
my showers turned pink.
You weren’t there when
I sobbed in the kitchen
writing really ******* sad
poetry.
You weren’t there when
I couldn’t breathe because
your name was stuck in
my throat and shattered in
my teeth.
No…
You weren’t there for the
empty embraces I felt
sick for committing.
The empty words
I had to spit out of my mouth
along with ****** teeth.
No…
You weren’t there
for when I cried
myself to sleep
when “I’m sorry”
was all I could mutter.
And your name went
along with it perfectly.
I’m sorry.
You weren’t there
when all my fingers
could do was scroll through
my newsfeed looking for you.
You weren’t there when
all my hands could do
was hold my head as I
was sobbing
when all my hands could
do was curl up into fists
and hit the wall
when all my vocal chords
could do was scream
"I’m sorry!"
You weren't there.

You don’t have enough
evidence to convict
me of not caring.

Its insane how many
memories can be held in
a park.
Or even the
library it's attached
to.
And the McDonalds down
the road.
A couple basements
in one apartment
complex. A couple
basements in another.
The hallway where
your friend used
to live. A concrete
platform.
A couple muddy short cuts.
The gas station across the
street you stole a
30 pack of beer from
and ran here to drink it.
Oh god.
All the times you've
gotten drunk here.
All the times
you ****** in cars here.
You rolled a joint here
once too.
The Walmart over
there where
you got arrested.
That roof top over there.
When you snuck onto elementary
school grounds. That forest
you got high in and couldn't
find your way back home. The
streets you prowled
and made yours
trying to feel alive.

I wish I had enough
time to tell you
why the world is
so cruel.
Or, hell, even enough
words.
Maybe even enough
experience with its
cruelty.

We were all born
innocent.
What turned us
into monsters?
What turned us
into wolves that
nip at lambs.
Their cotton
wool now stuck between
our teeth.

Is it because we
Don't floss enough
And there are
now dead memories
mashed in our
mandibles.
Were our canine
teeth not cut
down soon enough
when we were young.
Did they give me
glasses too soon?
Is that why
I'm still so
blind to the
traps I keep
walking in?

Maybe if they
had waited until
3rd grade instead
of 2nd I'd have
a sense of the
hairs
on the back of my
neck rising.

Maybe I'd have
a sense of danger
instead of giggling
as I fall off cliffs.

You get older not with
time but experience.
Or so I've heard.
I've heard that if
you have enough
memories people will
call you old.

Who the hell gave
memories so much
power.

Who allowed memories
from just a bottle
cap to break down my
walls like they were
fiber glass in winter.

I'm not a glass doll.
So why am I chipping.
Why are my insides
cracking and outsides
freezing in place.

Who gave him the
power to put life
inside of me, and
then decide that
I was too much.

Who let him
play God?

He is beer and
behind the library.
He is cut fingers
muddy knees
bruised knuckles.
Sore necks.
Sore muscles.
He is this ring
The hoodie at home.
The back ground
music to us
*******. He is that
**** van, taco bell
and his dad's wrecked
tourus.
The hand I held
as my knees knocked.

He's the one who's
always been there.

Nobody has ever
made me feel so
full and contempt.

I think of myself
as a scavenger. A
voulture, but I feed off
The living because I
fear I am already
dead.

He made me feel alive.

Now tell me who let
him play God.

There is anger
vibrating through your bones.
There are explosions
bottled inside of you.
when will you feel whole?

I feel like me being loud mouthed
and wide minded
sets you off.
And in a matter of seconds
I'm the target of your fire.

I'm in love with a bomb.
There is no way out
with hatred.
There is no way out
with anger.
There is no way out
with fire.

When he is angry
it is his hand
on your hip. Squeezing.
When he is angry
it is his hand
in yours gripping.
Air-tight. There is no getting away
from a nuclear bomb.

Studies show
that a woman
will look for a man most like her father.
Which explains your temper.
Which explains why I can't look away
when you go off and pop like a firework.

I am in love with a bomb.
And I sat down
and locked arms with it.
When I decided that I wanted to love you forever.
When you went off
you obliterated me.
and gave me eternal youth.
Taking away every strip of innocence
clothing
and skin.
You set my world on fire.
Made me feel alive
while dying.
And I have no way to thank you for that.
I don't even know if
I should
thank you.

but here I am on my knees
begging for your forgiveness
for something so stupid.
For something so pathetic.
While you continue to belittle me.

I am in love with a bomb.
And when he went off
he engraved so many words into my mind
and "I don't love you"
were only some of them.

How long do I have to keep fighting
until I feel like I've finally won
*something

I just got in a wreck
and I am
so
*******
happy to be alive.

This is how it starts.
You stub your finger
and there's
a little hole,
a little entry
way under your nail.

He finds it.
That weak spot
and he slithers in.
He claws his way
through your fingertips.

You see his face and
remember how
greasy it was under
your skin.
You see his bowl cut
you see his lips
you see his eyes
you hear his voice.
And you can't
help but smile
because you don't
understand why
you would ever
be so stuck on
everything he did.
He is no longer
the glue that
sticks you to a
chair.

He asks to have
your arms around
his waist and you
just imagine him
with his hands
around your neck.
You don't cry this
time.
You have a name for
this demon.
You have a stupid hair
cut and a stupid face
for this monster.

His voice isn't
near as mesmerising.
And the wind blows
his scent on you and
you try hard not to
cough.

He does not control
you. Giggle as you feel
the freedom flow through
you like morphine.

You can't make homes
out of people.
I know this okay.
I ******* know this.
God do I know this.
But tell me why when I look
at you I don't want
anything more than to
live in your arms.

When they were screaming?
and screaming.
and screaming.
they wouldn't
stop screaming...
I was in your arms.
and your back was
what I grasped
as some stupid
"oh ****" bar, so I could
cling onto reality.

When he fell and broke
the glass,
and there were
shards in my fingers
from picking it up.
From trying to clean
up the mess,
and maybe show that my
family is functional.
But he fell on me, and then
tipped over and bumped
you. knocked a few
pictures down
before finally falling
into the bathroom.
When I asked if he was bleeding
he responded about
his pierced *******
and not the glass in
his hand.

We laughed.
Because, what else
can you do in
a situation
like this as you watch
your ******* brother
deteriorate.

Just last night they had
another fight.
It ended with a butchers
knife to his wrist.
2 seconds away from
plunging it into
his artery.
And...
If I hadn't
of screamed
he'd be dead and i'd
probably be cleaning his
blood up off the floor,
and off the walls,
and rinsing
it out of the sink.

I took out the trash
and I didn't come back.
I ran to the library
because that's where you
said you were.
I ran to the only
place where I was
comfortable.
I ran to a home.

And I know you can't
make homes out of people.
But god ******...
you are inexplicable.

I forgot the mutter
of my brother saying "ow"
as his first attempt of
cutting his wrist went
awry, because it
kept echoing in my head.
I just heard your laughter
and felt your hand
on my thigh.
I forgot the tears running
down my face,
and me screaming
"what the ****" and the clatter
of the knife.
I forgot it all
and just felt you.

Any argument
ends with "wanna
**** about it?"
Every panic attack ends
with me in your arms
some how, and you're like
a smell of cats, smoke,
and home.
and I know you can't
make homes out of people.
I've long since learned
my lesson.
But maybe you're a building.
A library,
or a dark musty club
that's always warm.
With the smell of ****.
Maybe you're an open loft.

You can't make homes
out of people.
But whatever it is.
I own you.

I made a monster
out of just a man.
He was my lover
my man.
He was my demon.

I was a ball of clay
for his hands to
mold. To mold my
innocence.
I was his clay
monster to make.
I was his halo to break.

But with the venomous
teeth he gave me,
I bit my creator.
I bit my  teacher.
I bit the hand that fed me.

He made me small.
To cradle in his arms.
He made me weak.
To break in his hands.
He made me small.
to make loving me easier.

He’s taller than I remember.
His shoulders are wider than
I remember.
His face is rounder than
I remember.

I remember his hands.
how scared they were.
I remember his eyes,
How they looked like
red velvet cake.
I remember how my
skin grayed.
How my eyes dulled.
How my hair grew
thin.
I remember how he
changed me.

As a clay ball I
dryed and I stopped
being some beautiful
creature.
He bit me back
with his bigger fangs
and arsenic poison.
I never got used to the
stain. I never built up
a tolerance to you burning
me.
You poked hole in my skin.
So I wouldn’t break when
you put me under heat.

I could feel how you
were baking me.
Perfecting me.
Keeping me forever.

So I screamed. I broke
free with the wings
you mistakenly gave me.
I refused to be
your monster. And you
refused to be my man.
My venom built you into
a demon.

And like a dove I left you.
You may of found
pleasure in the
breakdown of my DNA.

But I was ashamed
of the monster I made.

She smelled like
regret and heart
break.
Cigarette smoke
drifting from
her breath
and I had to
get caught on
her everything
giving me a
nicotine addiction.

Please,
Just explain to me,
why when I think of
you, it sends shivers down
my spine.
Why I can't get rid of you.
You see, I have a habit
of remembering you.

How your nicotine
ashtray kisses tasted.
When you were on
ecstasy and the wind
got you excited.
How whiskey tastes like
the sweat on your neck
as I kissed it off.

You see, when you left
I had to quit cold turkey.
When what I needed
was to be weaned.
The addiction stayed
and you are the ******
my veins crave.

I want your arms around me. I want to hear my name slither out of your mouth like a ***** secret that hurts to conceal. I want to feel your cold hands on my hips again. I want to feel you. I want to feel you. Your hands pressed sweaty palm down on my back, burning a hole into my skin. I am yours. I am yours. I am so yours. I want to hear you caress my ossicles (hammer, anvil, stirrup) by whispering "babe" in my dreams. Making black clouds of lust fly through my head
     Have "I miss you." sound sincere. I want to be whole with you. And I've never wanted to be whole with anyone.
     Broken has always been my adjective. But for some reason you never complain about the glass stuck in your eyes. My rough shards harming your smooth soul. but you never complain about the constant scraping noise of you loving me.

I forgot what the emptiness felt like.
I was too focused on the fact that you
took it away.

With all of this resin coating
my lungs I'm surprised
I haven't been charged
with possession.

Come back already **** Face.

Kiss the concrete
as you fall for
me
as I am drowning
in you.

Don't **** me hard
enough that I forget
my first name,
or even my last name,
or my mother's name.
**** me hard enough
that I forget his.

My 1 bedroom
apartment with 3 people
living in it is kind of a
metaphor for my heart.

When did I lose my
innocence?
Was it when I let
the tab melt and
dissolve on my tongue
as my face went
numb?

Was it when I let
the water bubble
pulled out the bowl
and inhaled?

Or was it when
I rolled up my
first dollar bill?

It might've been you.
When you held me
down and ignored
my no's.

What ever it
is, I still smiled
when I met
you.

Now with alcohol
staining my tongue
and nicotine
rotting in my
teeth, your name
still lives perfectly
in my mouth.
I don't know
what's doing the
worst damage.
You?
Or all these drugs?

All of your toxicity
burning my lips.
Pills churning my stomach.
You are still there.

No matter
what stranger
I kiss
you are
still there.

I've begun to
think, you've
taken my all
and still
unsatisfied
you had to poison
my body.
burn and
monitor my
mouth. watching
to see if I'd
sell you out
for what
you've done
to me.

Love me like
the worlds
on fire.
Love me so
much it hurts.
I want to
die in your
mouth.
I want to
inhale you,
and have you
kiss my
scorched insides.

I want to be
a folded up
piece of paper
in your back
pocket.

I want to make
you go deaf
from the screaming.

You said you loved me.
I didn't believe you.
But when I said no,
you listened.
And that's what confused me.
When you were almost in,
and I was on top,
and I changed my mind,
you said okay, and didn't get annoyed.

That day, I decided I loved you more
than anything.
But when you left,
the sky went blank.
The stars went away.
Because why would they stay,
when the person who put them there left.

Why would the sky stay blue,
when you were the one who gave it that hue.
You gave me everything.
And when you left,
it all went away.
I stopped caring,
I went empty.
Every fire you ignited,
went cold.

The little girl you knew died.
The naive one...
That smiled all the time?
She's gone.

And don't even get me started.
On how I tried to find you in every
other guy that caught my eye.
That little girl looked for you,
she laughed
and smiled.
but eventually... she died.

Because you gave her happiness,
and you gave her life.
When she was so depressed,
she just wanted to die.
Because her limbs were lifeless,
until you touched them.
and your touch has long since faded.

He says he loves me.
I believe him.
But when I'm underneath him
and yelling no
he doesn't listen.
He'll shove his hand down my pants,
expecting there'll be no admission.

and I'm tired.
Because you sent fire through my veins,
and he sends ice.

We would kiss for hours
and you wouldn't make a move
until you were sure, that I wanted it.

The first day,
that I hung out with him
his room, was the first part of the tour.
And then it was his bed,
and it was me on top of him,
and my shirt goes off,
and his hand darted for my pants.

2 months together, you and I
and no *** was needed.
He wanted it the first week.
After 2 weeks
and 1 day,
he finally succeeded
and after that, he was never happy.
I was easy to please,
he liked it when I screamed.

Comparing you two,
is never fair.

It makes me miss you more,
and me only despise him.

but reality is,
He loves me, and he's not going to leave.
I love you, and you're long gone.

But no, was never a word in my vocabulary,
as much as it is now,
until I met him.
I say it at least 50 times, and he still doesn't listen.

"It's not **** unless you like it."
I guess, I can't blame him.
Because when he gets in.
I don't even try to fight it.

Boom!
White light,
you plummet,
feel the cold air
of a fresh start.
Limbs not in your control,
you think it's a critical
hit, not able to speak
barely any motor skills.

You think it starts to rain,
water on the battlefield
washing off your blood,
wrapping you in nature's embrace.
Warm like an incubator,
keeping you warm and safe,
your eyes sliding closed.

Boom!
White light,
you plummet,
leaving the warmness
of the explosion
you cry out in confusion.
Doctor taking you in his arms,
you think you fell asleep
somewhere between here and there,
feel limbo hanging in the air.

Boom!*
Another flash of light
in your new eyes
sounds ringing through
your new ears,
they're counting your toes
and fingers,
seeing how much you weigh.
Swaddled you are given to
mother nature once again,
3 explosions,
you're dead,
and born again.