blood drips out of the bathtub.
the way they twist your arms,
bend your legs in shapes
they aren't meant to make.

the blood seeps in the floorboards.
they paint your skin
purpleblack,
yellowred,
constellations spiderwebbing across
shoulder blades

down ribs
down hips
down thighs

the blood soaks
into the dirt.

put the gun in your hands
trusted you to never put your
finger on the trigger
swallowed the love you
fed me, swallowed the lead
when you left me

fell to my knees,
prayed to a god I
don't believe in.
made a church
out of mouths
that have never
tasted the truth.
found faith in
gutter, found
savior in the
******. confessed
my sins in a gas
station bathroom.
the bible was written
on a napkin and
all it says is how
nothing matters
in the end
anyway.

I forgot how to breathe.
learned how to fall,
never learned how to land.
the tangle of arms and
legs and the murals of
bruises. all the well meaning
friends asking if I'm okay,
watch me skin my knees,
don't understand how much
harder I've skinned my soul.
my lungs haven't tasted
fresh air for so long, and my
poor heart hasn't gone a day
without crashing violently
into my rib cage over and over.
I whisper apologies to myself
in the mirror every single night
and swallow the tainted air
and fall asleep to the poison
I feed myself while my masochistic
mind dreams up a world where
you still love me and I still know
how to breathe.

I am so tired
of only ever feeling half
alive.

hungry little heart
thirsty for love you
haven't ever tasted

thinking it's so sweet
like chocolate and lavender

but i'll tell you this, the
aftertaste is bitter and black
and it's the only thing you'll taste

for centuries.

gently
so gently
you pulled the
threads loose,
set me free

but the relief lasted
barely a moment -
you tied me to
you, chained me,
and even after
you decided
you didn't want me
anymore

you left me
with the shackles
and the bruises
and the empty bed
and the sheets
that still smell
like you.