lick my lips
to see if my words are real.
you claw my flesh
to see if I’m standing before you.
you tell me lies
to take me through the night
and you wonder why
I just can’t seem to shake you.

Rehearsal’s meant for perfection, but this is another stage.The act of doing. Blinded by the spotlight, struck still by the paralyzing heartbeat in my throat. And this is not the first time that I have been here, I am not proud to say. And I am unsure of which part I am more ashamed of: the fact that I felt the need to do, or that I lacked the courage to follow through. So here we are again, brought together by the forces of the wind. Being pulled together by the strings of our hearts, playing each other in the selfish game this has always been. It’s physics, no matter how far we run from each other, no matter how much blood was shed when I tried to cut you free, no matter how many cold shoulders we rested on at night; we always return to the same place, this same state. A vicious cycle that every time steals more and more of my sanity. I feel it slip through my fingers quicker each time and I claw and I claw my way to regain it, but there you are, holding it in your hand. A trophy. You’ve claimed everything of mine; maybe it was unknowingly so. But I have no tears left to shed, ducts dried and shriveled. I have not felt the knife of anger and sadness in my side for a long time, nor the relief of laughter and happiness; even on Friday nights when I’m laying next to you, under your covers. Just this terrible, aching numbness. This inhumane indifference that curdles at the pit of my stomach. I cannot daydream because I always somehow return back to you. And most nights I can’t fall asleep, but I’m more so afraid to. Of believing that you really are in front of me, brushing the hair out of my face and kissing my neck, just to wake up to a bed filled with haunting memories and a body aching with the desire to be held.
This cycle has to come to an end, and here we are. I stand there before you, silver blade of the knife shining from my hand. For the first time in an entire year, I finally evoke emotion. Your eyes grow wide with shock and fear like I’ve never seen before. I’m sure a while ago, accomplishment would have coursed through me. But I am only here to end this. To end your prolonged chapter of my life; overdue.
Give me an hour or so, I could name all the wrongdoings you’ve ever done. I could document and chronicle the periods of pain that have filled these past two years of my life, only to be broken by short bursts of shallow happiness. Although this is all true, I still love you. And I know once I walk away from here, the thought of you will continue to haunt every step of my life. Only worse, there would be no possibility of ever seeing you again.
There is no freedom from you in this world. Miles away, everything still reminds me of you. There is no killing you.
So I looked into your eyes, one last time, as I drew the blade through my throat.

I could tell you what it’s like
to hold your breath for 4 years,
since I know you have no clue.
and I could tell you how it felt
when I watched you walk out that door
how the words sliced my throat,
begging you to stay.
you saw the blood coughed up before me
how it was killing me.
but it didn’t slow your pace.

I could tell you how our room looked
after you stained it red
and how the sun never managed
to find the windows.
I memorized the steps
from the light switch to the bed
because that’s where my world existed
for weeks on end.

I cut off my friends
because I couldn’t handle
them asking about you.
what explanation do they want?
you didn’t want to stay.
I wasn’t worth it.
our friendship wasn’t worth it.
you just wanted to **** other girls.

could you tell me how mornings are?
cause I haven’t seen one in so long.
I can never seem to wipe the sleep from my eyes.
could you share the secret to not caring?
you seem to have it down to an art.
I always hold on to things too tightly
and they end up falling apart.
do you hurt at all
when you walk across
the shattered pieces
of what we had?
cause I’ve been picking
shards from my feet for years.

do you love her?
was she worth it?
does she help you forget
the person you left behind?

there you were
holding me under the sea.
sunlight dancing
through each wave that crushes me.
you claimed you’ve tried
to keep my balance just right
but it was your hands
keeping me down every time.
my concrete feet
do not need help from your grasp.
underwater, convinced
every breath was my last.
I feel your shadow
hovering over me
yet I can’t shake you
can’t find a way to be free.
you colored my flesh
your fingerprints all over me
but I still find a way to love you
as I’m stuck here, swallowing sea.

tell me how you miss me
I love how sweet that sounds.
as you kiss her neck
as you lick her sweat.
you hate how she says your name
and how her lips taste like wine.
you hate her blue eyes
you hate how they’re not mine.

and you say you miss me.
isn’t that just sweet?
but you’ve made your choice
and your choice wasn’t me.

you say "**** it"
and you leave me at the bar.
I can see the first cigarette
you've had in weeks
being lit in the post-midnight
Joplin air.
and I toss my head back
and let ***** hug my veins
and rock me into the space
where all the edges are soft
and the air is twice as thick,
making the space between
the bar and the sidewalk
that much apparent.