I never thought of myself as a cutter
or even someone
who could understand cutting.
Lately, though
I realize that you
are the razor that I use
to cut myself
when my heart needs to bleed.
It isn’t healthy. It isn’t Right or Left
or anywhere in between.
It has been happening, though
for quite a while.
Years, even.
There were others before you.
There may be more after you
(though I hope not).
You have been my favorite.
I have had much to learn
in order to become
the version of myself
that I deserve.
For instance:
I am so used to punishment
and being wrong
that I feel
incomplete frustrated aimless
without it.
When I deny myself the bliss of your touch
the sweet joy of release in my surrender
I am able to punish myself. Then
I have the twisted comfort I seek.
I can breathe again
even though it be sick air.
As I write this
I find that I am finally sickened enough by the sick air!
I am ever so grateful to you for being gentle
when you pulled back the curtains
and let the light in on my sickness
though I wonder if you even knew what you were doing.
I do not wish to let you pass by untasted.
You feel perfectly delicious to me.
Like home,
though I know not how to explain or quantify that
and I do not want to scare you.
I feel vulnerable now.
Is the way I feel for you simply another facet
of the sickness?
My instinct says run
to you away from you
at breakneck speeds.
Go! Go! Go!
I want to crash into you
with reckless abandon
succumb my whole being
to the pleasures of
exploring you.
I also want to fake my own death
leave the country
so I never have to see your face again
though I know you will always haunt me
no matter how far I go.
That is why I’m still here.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC
I never thought of myself as a cutter
or even someone
who could understand cutting.
Lately, though
I realize that you
are the razor that I use
to cut myself
when my heart needs to bleed.
It isn’t healthy. It isn’t Right or Left
or anywhere in between.
It has been happening, though
for quite a while.
Years, even.
There were others before you.
There may be more after you
(though I hope not).
You have been my favorite.
I have had much to learn
in order to become
the version of myself
that I deserve.
For instance:
I am so used to punishment
and being wrong
that I feel
incomplete frustrated aimless
without it.
When I deny myself the bliss of your touch
the sweet joy of release in my surrender
I am able to punish myself. Then
I have the twisted comfort I seek.
I can breathe again
even though it be sick air.
As I write this
I find that I am finally sickened enough by the sick air!
I am ever so grateful to you for being gentle
when you pulled back the curtains
and let the light in on my sickness
though I wonder if you even knew what you were doing.
I do not wish to let you pass by untasted.
You feel perfectly delicious to me.
Like home,
though I know not how to explain or quantify that
and I do not want to scare you.
I feel vulnerable now.
Is the way I feel for you simply another facet
of the sickness?
My instinct says run
to you away from you
at breakneck speeds.
Go! Go! Go!
I want to crash into you
with reckless abandon
succumb my whole being
to the pleasures of
exploring you.
I also want to fake my own death
leave the country
so I never have to see your face again
though I know you will always haunt me
no matter how far I go.
That is why I’m still here.