Last night I saw him after two weeks.
He was 9 shots deep,
patron making his breath hot and
heavy on my face when he hugged me hello.

I was cracking open a second beer
while he cut into the chicken breast.

He grabbed my arm and
placed it on the cutting board.
He pressed the knife to my flesh while I took a swig of beer.
He pulled the knife through my skin,
blood bubbling as he said:

"ah. you almost flinched."

He then took me into his mouth,
my blood making his lips and teeth momentarily stained ruby.

I held his head to my cheek and
kissed his neck while he crouched to my height.

I guess this was too tender a moment for him
because he pinned me against the wall and
pulled my hair so hard my feet ceased to touch the floor.

He kissed me with desire,
he kissed me in a way that almost made me flinch.

He kissed me but it didn't feel like a kiss.
He cut me and it felt like love.

He's following me,
I see him over my shoulder.
Beside me.
In front of me.
I wish I could escape,
but his words fill the air.
He's following me
and I can't run any faster.
He's here.
Love is a terrible game,
but hate is a worse one to play.

Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I like having an organized room and arrive 15 minutes early to everything because it's the only thing I can control in my life?  I can't control falling in love.  I can't control you when you leave.  I can't control the malignant thoughts that spur up once I'm alone.  I can't control myself when I text you asking if you miss me even a little bit and I can't control crying myself to sleep when you don't text back.  I can't control these things and it scares me so I take it out on everything else.

Months later,
and still I sit in the shower
for hours at a time,
hoping to one day
wash away the handprints
that didn't belong
on my body
in the first place.

-k.w//cleanse

happy yesterday
indifferent today
sad tomorrow
depressed always

i'd take you as medication, but knowing me, i'd probably overdose on you ever so easily