it's been thirteen years since the first time i ever considered holding onto that hollow feeling in my stomach instead of holding you
and i still admire the way my ribs peek out between hyperventilation pulses whenever i see someone that resembles your face
when faced with how it felt to swallow your lies, even now, i'd rather be empty

i still remember the way that
i felt when i realized you were
just another name on a long list
of those that came before you,
the ones that meant more to me
than you ever could

one question
that i want to know:
who hurt you?

mental illness is the
most expensive thing
i've ever owned but
never wanted

i've forgotten the way that you sound,
forgotten the way you chuckle
when you say my name.
i don't remember the way your smile
drips off of your words.
but i do remember your hands,
and the way they looked when they let me go.

i guess all the nights you
****** me from behind were
spent mapping out where
you would stab me in the back