I'm so tired.
Not the tired that people
Normally say to express themselves;
Not "I've been working" tired.
Not "I need sleep" tired.
(Though I do need some..)
My kind of tired
Is deep within my soul.
Like someone has taken knives
And chains a-and whips and... and ropes
And tortured my poor soul.
Which, I suppose they have.
And by they, I mean him.
And also myself.

He cut into it with his lies,
He cut it out of me, my soul,
And held his prize for all to see.
Torturing me with memories,
Little things;
Sometimes it's a song,
Other times it's a phrase.
But most often,
It's the shame and regret I feel.

The shame of saying those ***** things;
The regret of ever even saying hello.
The shame of being so stupid,
And not seeing him for what he was.
What he is.
The pain I brought to my family;
All of my self-esteem- gone.
The harm I brought to my wrist
As I sought for a way out.
Some days, it's harder than others;
But all of my days are dark.

Except for when I forget
For that brief moment what I did,
And then the light shines through.
I'm smiling at him;
Laughing, even.
His eyes are my saving grace,
And his smile brings me joy;
He makes me forget all of those things,
Even if it's just for a moment.
And when those feelings,
Those memories,
Those things resurface,
He simply smiles at me and says:
*"I still love you, no matter what."