i hope you finally get it someday
                                              and until then,
i will do everything in my power
to make you understand—
                                     or at least try to.
if i really wanted to,
i could morph the air around me
                                                into clay—
i could mold and manipulate it
to form the sharp, jagged words
that are yet to leave the tip
                        of my cowardly tongue.
i could push the words down your throat
and have you regurgitate them,
only for you to be put in my place,
to understand first hand.
but that would only make me into you—
so instead of doing what i can,

i sit in silence
                           and take in the judgement.

water trickles down my spine,
impossible fingers pressing into my skin.
i choke out sighs of defeat,
as the sharp drops of water     
pierce into me like tiny daggers—
knowing every little thing,
and using the knowledge to peel me apart.
the sky falls
and joins the shower drain
forever an aching reminder:
i will never be clean.

don’t worry,
i’m okay.
i just have to
be sad
sometimes.
to draw myself
back into my head
and make sure
everything’s working correctly.

piercing eyes
burn straight through me.
i feel exposed
and peeled open,
as my last rational thoughts
drizzle through the gaps
between my fingers
and pile up on the ground
like wet sand.
i take my shaky steps
like the earth is depending on me
to prevent her from quaking.
and as the hands on the clock
reach out to strangle me,
i break a sweat
and try to choke out words.
i fail,
and the judging eyes judge.
the fragile silence is broken by whispers.

“goodbye”
the words crawl from your mouth.
they sound like their on their knees,
begging to be let go.
you tell me there isn’t a point anymore,
but i cover my ears
and claim i’m not listening.
the pills you swallowed,
the calls you never answered,
“goodbye,” you croak again.
i answer no,
but goodbye isn’t a question.