it's like scratching
at the top of the coffin,
splintered hands,
shaky knees,
& shallow breath-

i'm climbing my way
out of this mess,

but once i sift through
all the soil
and finally land
with my feet on solid ground,
you're waiting in the graveyard
with the same shovel
that buried me in the first place-

and this goes on and on and on,
and the blood on your skin
will someday stain
from all the self-inflicted pain.
and this goes on and on and on,
and your teeth
will someday chip
from all the forced silence.
and this goes on and on and on-

til my elbows shatter
from pushing the weight
and my wrists break
from holding on so tight
and my throat begins
to bleed from screaming
your name,
begging you to save me.

but you will never be the one
who digs me out
when i'm in too deep
to catch my breath.

you will always be
the boy with the shovel,
and me...
the girl with the concrete feet...