My thoughts cannot move an inch
Without bumping into some piece of you.
A piece that cuts like a serrated edge of
Your stare from the first night you saw me cry.

The night I became vulnerable,
And the demon you tried to hide
Clawed to the surface
To take the whites from my eyes.

But I let you in.
Scorned the demon to only grasp your pretense.

Suddenly you were
My comfort
And my darkness.
Contorted to control my every move.

But now…

I would rather be the leftover cologne
At the bottom of the bottle you are ready to throw away
If that meant you leaving me.

You are the Devil that I kissed.
I ******.
And I loved.
Just so you could steal me.

Strip me of my friends
My family,
My happiness.
But you cannot have my worth.

So inject me with human blood.
Take the black smoke from my throat.

But please,
If you love me.
Leave me with that piece of me.

29 years wasn’t long enough,
You tell me you miss him everyday.
1956 was the year of two lovers

I never knew him.
I wasn’t alive when the world took him.
But the family knows.

We know
The day his chest clenched and gave out,
Was the start to your spark going dim.

The eyes that gently
Reflected the glowing yellow-orange light
From the sun… set.

2. 43 years wasn’t long enough.
You tell me you miss her everyday.
1960 was the year a first child was born.

I knew her, she birthed me.
I was 9 when the world took her,
And I know.

I know
The day her body succumbed to the ***** needles and mix of pills,
Was when your spark went out.

The eyes that gently
Reflected the glowing white-dwarf light
From the stars… set.

3. No number of years could be long enough.
I tell you I love you everyday.
Every year is the year to celebrate the monarch,

To try to mend your pain.
Every wrinkle has a story
Your family wants to embrace and gain.

We need you to know that you still have today.
You still have tomorrow,
And we want to seize everyday.
Hurt is inevitable and pain makes us stronger.
You will never stop being the glue to our dentures.
Just grasp who you were before all the trenches.

It was the night the table broke.
It started off with screams,
And then I heard the glass break.

Mum broke another plate.

A night of hiding under beds,
Catching my own tears,
Being five years old
Taking bets with myself
On whose eye would be black in the morning.

Big Brother, I understand why
You walked and ran.
I will never understand the powder
You put in your hand.

I was 11 when change happened.
Chubby yet barely developed.
Something laid dormant in my skin.
Waiting.

The waiting ended and the wickedness rose.
The dimples on my cheeks,
Stopped caving.
The light in my eyes went dark.

The monsters under my bed started to appear in my head.
I was starving.
Starving for an outlet and sustenance to keep me alive.

Purging on control and the need for something more.
I first tried scissors,
Trying to see how thick the skin on my suddenly thin wrists
Were.

I needed more.
I took apart my sisters razor to dig deeper.

What I found was a burned esophagus.
Bad breathe.
Thin hair.
Long sleeves in the middle of summer.
And clothes four sizes too big.

5 years.
6 suicide notes.
10,952 secret scars.
There was just no other way of feeling.

You left me drowning
Gasping for air
Fighting for the light in the distance
Yet.
(I am)
Sinking further to the black abyss
That will soon turn red
From the cuts on my wrists