You don’t need a gun
to be shot.
I know this
       because the morning after
you left, I found a bullet hole in my chest,
that sadness from that Sunday overflowed to
    massive amounts of
pain in Monday’s mayhem.
The next thing I knew,
I had blood trickling from the
stab wounds in my back.
My weakness on Wednesday echoed the
      innocence of my thoughts;
you don’t need a knife to be
   stabbed.
The flashbacks on Friday were bearable
until my skin started to peal from the burn
during the sunset on Saturday night.
The warmth reminded me of the butterflies that used to flood my stomach when you smiled.
But they’re gone now
just like the warmth of your touch on my skin that’s
now just a bare surface.
I guess you don’t need fire to burn either.
The bullet hole will close, the stab
wounds will heal, the skin
will grow back.
The morning after
I saw you with her
I learned the biggest lesson of my life;
You don’t need water to
                                             drown.