I never understood what was so important about my favorite color when you wanted to get to know me when, the thing that mattered was I felt black and blue on the inside.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be as interesting as the things you haven’t put your gentials in.
I’ll never forget the night you drown me in alcohol. You pushed me into the ocean and instead of a raft, you gave me a half empty bottle. I couldn’t walk, so how could I swim? If my eyes were hardly open, how could I give you consent? I thought you were a life boat, but you were the hurricane that pulled me under.
I use to jump in pools of liquor and call it happiness,
now I jump in pools that look empty but they’re filled with things that I can’t see.
I stayed with you that night.
And we were drunk enough to cry about the things that hurt the worst. The things that mattered. I couldn’t mean anything to you, but
In the morning I was confused because when I told you I had to go- you told me no. “If you leave, then I’ll miss you.” I thought you were talking in your sleep, but out of everything you forgot you remembered me.
Don’t you dare push me away again.
Because I’m now sitting in the grass I pulled out- calling them weeds. I won’t allow you to say I wasn’t there when things got messy.
Even after the rain, I laid there covered in mud and at your mercy for you to stay; while you tried to act like I was the one walking away.
— The End —