Why won't you leave my ******* brain?
I know that you're a *******,
that you're not worth a minute of my time,
although really I know that that's not true
but that's what I keep telling myself,
in order to get out of bed in the morning.
I thought I was finally angry,
that I'd reached the long awaited
'Stage 2'
of the break up,
but here I am again,
sobbing in the street,
six beers in.
Do you still think of me?
Or if somebody mentioned me now
would you simply answer
"Molly who?"
Molly,
the girl that loved you.
Still loves you.
Molly,
the girl you ******
last thing at night and first thing in the morning.
Molly,
the girl that didn't turn out to be
the girl you prayed she was.
Molly,
the girl that's been alone so long
that she stays that way,
even when somebody else is rammed deep inside her.
You're with me more now
than when we were together.
How is it fair
that you get to snap your fingers,
say "that's that"
and be okay;
what happened to
"I'll never finish this"?
You lied.
Do you understand that?
You're a ******* liar.
You took me by the hand,
called me all the things I'd always dreamt of hearing
and pulled me down,
deep down,
to a place I didn't know I was capable of inhabiting.
I resisted at first,
the place you put me in strange and all too familiar,
and I wanted to keep one arm out of the water.
But you wouldn't stop asking,
wouldn't let go of my hand,
a merperson,
floating hypnotic in the water,
bewitching the love sick sailor with her head over the side of the boat,
cursing the moon.
And so I fell right in,
felt the foam crash right over my face,
the waves swell in my lungs,
the salt in my mouth
and the sting in my eyes like nettles,
and I laughed until I choked
and begged for more.
But that's when you swam away
and I was lost and lifeless inside the rib cage of a shipwreck,
right at the bottom of the sea bed,
amongst the whale bones,
and I suddenly remembered that I couldn't breathe.
I was stupid;
you were stupid.
I was clueless;
you were cruel.
There's shells in my hands
whenever I cough
and sand in my bed.
You used your tongue to open me up,
a clam,
and I swallowed down the ocean.
Fish flap on the shore
and search for sea,
puddles of air,
the kiss of life.
I wait for the rain
to turn into a river.