Look at me.
I'm peeling back my skin
for you,
can't you see my heart
all black and bruised and
covered in burn marks
from the cigarettes I
never told you I smoked?
You turn away because
it's kind of gross but
here I am,
exposed,
tearing myself open
because I don't know
how to keep things inside.

And I spent so long
trying to tell myself
that I am strong,
that you cannot
break me
- but I'm already
breaking.
I'm fragile and
I'm weak because
I took my backbone and
built it up at your feet
like a Jenga tower which
you dismantle so recklessly,
never guessing it might
fall.

I will fall because you
built me up so tall,
tall enough to get a grip
on the expectations I
set for you
- left hanging there -
feet kicking helplessly
through thin air
when the
hands that lifted me
so high
move away to
see some
better sights.

I am not afraid of heights
I'm just afraid of
not being able to get
back down.
But you've already
taken what was
left of the
solid ground.

And you let it
rain down on me,
all those sticks and
stones which
pierce my soul,
you let it shatter me
like the bathroom mirror
in which I never saw
beauty.
You let it break me,
and I will let myself
be broken
because I've already given
that power to you.

But what you
don't understand
is that
I have a fuckload
of superglue.

And I will stick myself
back together.
It doesn't end
here.
This is just another
scar
on my already
blemished surface.

And each scar will
line itself up,
branching from each
other like the
wrinkles on the palm
of my hand.

And each one will be a
reminder that I
survived.
I am still here even after
being broken
time and
time
again.

You were not the end
of me.
This was not a loss,
but a victory.