Jan 2016
It's an itch I won't allow myself to scratch
A scar that's begun to scab
and I must hit the top of my own hand
every time my fingers start to wander towards it again
I've placed that horribly depressing doggie
cone of silence around myself
Thankfully,
it's mostly invisible to everyone except me
I've built brick walls around my home,
I'm not quite sure what purpose they serve anymore,
all I know is that when I first started building,
it was meant to keep myself
from going back to you
Now that all too familiar urge has fizzled out and died along with the rest of them
That desire to hear you say my name again
The longing to feel your fingers dance over my skin
in all the places you knew made me cringe
with something much hotter than happiness
Yes, I won't lie
Those walls were meant to keep me from acting solely on impulsive
reaching for you again simply out of habit
loving you out of routine
forgiving you
because it was easier
than letting you go
But now
the walls are there to keep you the **** away
Don't ever come back for me
Don't you ******* dare
Don't come to my home
Don't show up here with a fist full of roses and a throat full of apologies,
wearing I'm Sorry's like body armor against the fire you know is sure to spit out from the mouth you used to love to kiss
And do you even recognize my hands?
The ones that tidied everything despite my undeniable messiness,
the ones that folded things neatly so only to please you, because we both know that I couldn't have gave a **** if that blanket was here or there or anywhere, I didn't care if it was folded or not, I didn't give a ****, dear, but I folded that ****** for you,
the ones that wrote poems you never even pretended to read,
the ones that created masterpieces your eyes only glanced at, never allowing yourself the time necessary to absorb their true beauty because who the hell had time for that? Hello? There were video games to play, babe.
These hands that would have moved mountains for you,
these pacifistic hands that would have killed for you,
fought wars for you,
burned themselves on the stove tops for you,
picked up all the pieces of myself that you single handedly destroyed for you,
and then, like a child, handed them right back to you.
Do you recognize these hands, love?
These hands that built brick walls so high,
I only stopped because they kissed the sky.
Don't stop me if you see me,
Don't look me in the eye,
you packed your bags and left,
you don't get to say goodbye.
A scar that's begun to scab
and I must hit the top of my own hand
every time my fingers start to wander towards it again
I've placed that horribly depressing doggie
cone of silence around myself
Thankfully,
it's mostly invisible to everyone except me
I've built brick walls around my home,
I'm not quite sure what purpose they serve anymore,
all I know is that when I first started building,
it was meant to keep myself
from going back to you
Now that all too familiar urge has fizzled out and died along with the rest of them
That desire to hear you say my name again
The longing to feel your fingers dance over my skin
in all the places you knew made me cringe
with something much hotter than happiness
Yes, I won't lie
Those walls were meant to keep me from acting solely on impulsive
reaching for you again simply out of habit
loving you out of routine
forgiving you
because it was easier
than letting you go
But now
the walls are there to keep you the **** away
Don't ever come back for me
Don't you ******* dare
Don't come to my home
Don't show up here with a fist full of roses and a throat full of apologies,
wearing I'm Sorry's like body armor against the fire you know is sure to spit out from the mouth you used to love to kiss
And do you even recognize my hands?
The ones that tidied everything despite my undeniable messiness,
the ones that folded things neatly so only to please you, because we both know that I couldn't have gave a **** if that blanket was here or there or anywhere, I didn't care if it was folded or not, I didn't give a ****, dear, but I folded that ****** for you,
the ones that wrote poems you never even pretended to read,
the ones that created masterpieces your eyes only glanced at, never allowing yourself the time necessary to absorb their true beauty because who the hell had time for that? Hello? There were video games to play, babe.
These hands that would have moved mountains for you,
these pacifistic hands that would have killed for you,
fought wars for you,
burned themselves on the stove tops for you,
picked up all the pieces of myself that you single handedly destroyed for you,
and then, like a child, handed them right back to you.
Do you recognize these hands, love?
These hands that built brick walls so high,
I only stopped because they kissed the sky.
Don't stop me if you see me,
Don't look me in the eye,
you packed your bags and left,
you don't get to say goodbye.
