The ambivalence
   trickles down my throat,
I feel it settling
   inside of my stomach.
Indecision makes it's way into
   every part of me.

I'm whimpering
from the devastation.

Painstakingly
stagnant.

Taking the necessary
measure so I can breathe.

Still it sits
   like acid
   inside of my stomach.
Awaiting the moment
   I regurgitate it all back to you.

Memorizing the pain
like warning signs-
   sketchy shadows
   in a parking lot
so I kept my doors locked.
Turned the radio down
so I could prepare
for anything that would
make me afraid again.

You are the locked door
and the anxiety
of not remembering
if I took the right
precautions this time.

Maybe I didn't
check my rear view
    close enough
and I have no idea
a car has been
   following me for miles-
checking my progress
   watching as I switch lanes
   making sure I'm aware
   of the imminent threat
   it poses towards my future.

You are the stove
   I can't remember if I left on.
You are the straightener
   that burned a hole
   through my carpet.
I was unaware
   of the heat-
   or the consequences
I just wanted to feel full-
   to feel pretty.

I'm always looking backwards
   at the damage
   that has been made of me.
Seems I'm always
   looking over my shoulder
expecting for you
to be standing there
   reminding me why
   there is nothing left of me.
The pieces I have
taped together have
your initials outlined
in the remains.
   I can't rid of you-
Or the inhibition
  or the hindrance
left inside of my bones.
I am a weak, frail
   skeleton of a person.

Now I always,
keep my doors locked.