I could go to bed with him
But my heart would still be aching
And I could try to write words about him
But my heart would still be aching
Instead of you, I could choose him
But my aching heart
Aches for you

they say a child can grow up conditioning themselves
to forget
all the trauma they've experienced;
they say they quite literally push it
to the back of their minds, as a way of coping,
a way to deal with the pain―without actually dealing with it.

it'll all come crashing back, eventually
everyone knows that a dam is a temporary structure,
that eventually the chemicals in the water
will erode the wood and
break it apart

it all comes rushing in
and escapes through blood-shot eyes,
drooling, sobbing coughs and panic-slick wheezes.

i never fully managed to forget my father
though i'm sure there are things i don't remember―
after all, that's an awful lot of hatred
and anger
for only several incidents, and a lifetime of an alcoholic's neglect...
isn't it?

but you―you i managed to block out completely
to the point where i knew the phrase "emotional abuse"
but couldn't quite be sure why i applied it to you;
it was just something i knew
instinctively

how foolish it was for me to break the dam myself,
out of some morbid, masochistic curiosity:
"what did she do? what did she do to me? why?"
and then i remembered

all the sleepless nights spent reading to you,
lulling your insomniac mind (though not as bad as mind)
and soothing the supposed nightmares you had:
nightmares that you, conveniently, only suffered
when i was asleep―and i was hardly ever sleeping

all the memories you blurred between me
and your last boyfriend; all the ways
you made me feel like ****, comparing me
to a **** bag that cheated on you
and then lured you in again with falsities and
repeated apologies. you fell for it every time,
and i had to wonder: why am i not good enough
compared to that?

the way you asked me to watch you in the bath,
whilst you drew on your skin and told me:
"this is what i do to avoid cutting myself"
and i thought:
"i'm still cutting"
but i sacrificed my own stability to ensure your safety

******* martyr, i was
how disgusting to allow myself to be manipulated by you,
even after the hours you left me guessing out of spite
whether or not you'd burned your skin with that lighter
just because i didn't want to spoil your mood with my own

the holiday i spent in my dream city was spoiled
and stained and joyless, as you ****** the soul out of me
by burning images into my mind:
you and him, sharing a bath, looking after his family's kids.
why the **** would you do that to me?
more importantly, why the ****
did i let you? and still love you?

so many more incidents, so many more
broken promises and sick lies;
the way you hid me from your family
and only trusted me not to cheat because i'm demisexual;
you made sure i'd never emotionally connect with anybody else
and find attraction in them,
lest i move on from you and find another

one that wouldn't abuse me
like you did

you were the first of them all
to make me smile and laugh so much

you were like a sister to me,
and beautiful in so many ways

your voice was one i could listen to for hours
and your art awed me

i can't listen to Halsey
without thinking of you singing her songs—not a perfect voice,

but still brilliant, with something earthy to your tones
that had me feeling grounded.

well, on some level you turned out to be
just as bitter and spiteful as me

who knew? i didn't see our end coming
until you two ended and i was stuck in the middle

your anger made me angry;
your salt turned me into an ocean of disdain

i hadn't been quite as hateful over anybody
as i had been over you, for a very long time,

and it's been months, but now
i can finally think of you without any resentment

you're complicated, and perhaps a little broken,
but so am i

you're not as mature as you once seemed,
but, at times, neither am i

you're still talented, and you deserve good in your life
more than i do

so even though you'll never read this:
this is me, doing something i rarely ever do

this is me, wishing you well
and making peace with something shattered

instead of letting myself bleed over it.

Look at me
My skin
Has dealt with a lot


                         I have lived through
                         Tumors and attacks
                         Cuts and bruises from me
                         Bruises from him


My poor skin
In the end
This damage is
All for naught
Because


                            *"Scars are only **** on guys..."

To these words,
I whisk my pen.
Lay my fortune,
and my silence.

To these words,
I give an oath.
Give my sword,
offer my soul.

To these words,
I live day by day.
As they renew,
restore and guide.

To these words,
The blood flows,
a-coursing my veins.
As I leap in hounds.

To these words,
whose tone capture.
Then possess,
in raptures.

To these words,
my lifetime.
My passion,
and obsession.

To these words,
that entwine.
A link to my spirit,
my lifetime trinity.

My head falls deep into
Her shoulders, gently,
As she would not need to nudge.

My Arm finds its place around her back,
Stalking in good terms,
I lean and feel receptive touch.

I feel as though
My approach was out of place.
My hand throttles back, firmly, But in fluid grace.
I put it out in winter soft,
That she might not resort to sob.
I prepare to leave my seat as if told,
Remarking her that it was out of love

You're not here, but I see you.
You're not here, but I feel you.
You're not here, but I breathe you.
I smell you in the spring flowers on the side of the road.
When walking down the street
I see you in my dreams,
H a u n t i n g me.
I need you, but you're not here.
I'm just hoping & wishing that you breathe me too.

they fly in
and sit on my shoulder
even when
i don't want them to

old Bob's ex-wife
had his sofa covered
in some horribly ugly
historic print

(i thought it was
kinda pretty)

i saw a haversack
made out of that
self-same fabric
in my possession

today, Bob handed me
a leather bag
he had sewed with
that fabric as the lining

i hope i smiled

because the other vision
was of his family
clearing his possessions
out of his cabin
after he passed

i'm afraid it isn't
long now