I'm still a little selfish about it.
I wanted you to bleed out I'm sorry's through every wound that's ever laid on your skin.
I wanted it to physically harm you to admit your mistakes even when it's something so simple as taking a wrong turn.

Of course you're as shallow as the bathtub I'm sitting in trying to scrub your filth from the beds of my fingernails.
But as soon as I splashed the water, my lungs started to fill up with all the garbage you regurgitated from your own down into my throat.

I sunk and you threw my headstone at me.

You were trying to paint my flesh in the shapes of your fists and its so rude of me to think it's anything less than beautiful.
1,2,3 I could count your paintings as quick as your heartbeats.

Yet, when she walked in with your keys imprinted into her skin I wondered when it was that I started tasting better than she did.
And when I stopped.
I guess I'm an acquired taste that was clearly too bitter to accommodate your tongue.

I knew that you can't make homes out of people but I didn't listen.

You're just as dangerous as every single snake etched into your chest. Your fingers mimicking their actions around my neck.
You taught me to find calm in the way my spine breaks like a mouse you chose to feed you.
And I'm starting to stitch myself up crookedly.

There are parts of me still as fragile as paper.
But I swear I’ll never break apart my ribs again just so someone can fit more comfortably inside.
I swear I’ll never tie up my veins like I did with you.
I swear I’ll remember the way my mother called me beautiful before I remember the way you said I wasn’t.
and I'll remember to cut the grass before I let someone in.