You broke me.
and you had me convinced
that the only way to piece me together
was by the glue
crafted by your empty compliments
and counterfeit love.

Where did i learn that you can heal a **** with a knife?

Probably where I learned that if something sounds true, it is.

The song named after you lulled me to a peaceful sleep.
My ears unfailingly grasped
the soothing rhythm,
the reassuring beat,
and the promising harmony;
but disregarded the ominous lyrics.
I shouldn't have been surprised when i woke,
******* by the rope of your unfulfilled promises,
silenced by duct tape with the words "I didn't want to hurt you" written across it in washable ink,
and with a gun I had given to you for your protection aimed at my head.

I wish you would just shoot me with that gun already
It would hurt less than waiting
But you wont
You keep me at the perfect distance
to where you're comfortable
and I'm falling apart.

At first it hurt like the waves.
the crashing, overbearing waves
that were shaped something like your lips
when you said you needed time.

But now it hurts like a splinter.
the kind that you don't realize you have
until you return home from the wooden playground
and the excitement-induced adrenaline fades
and you realize what seemed like harmless satisfaction
sneakily left you with a burdensome wound.

the kind of splinter that you try to remove
and realize it hurts less to just let it sit there.
even though everyone says that
"if you just get past the pain of removing it, you'll be completely relieved."
all you can feel is the pain of the extraction
so you decide to do nothing
and let the lesser pain stay.