Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2012
Every seven years
each skin cell in the body is renewed.
I can't muster the patience to wait.

I stand under angry faucets for hours,
hoping that the scalding downpour will wash you away.
I rip and tear at my own arms
my own *******
my own lips,
like you did.

I take razors to my hair
till every strand of golden silk lies beneath my feet,
ready to be swept away,
joining gin bottles and day-old untouched dinners
maybe even the remains of a pretty girl
like me

When I can almost make believe
that you are no longer sticking to my skin
I can still feel you seeping out of my pores.
Taking off layers wasn't enough
so I tear you out of me from the inside.

I shove my fingers between my legs,
clawing up and inside
till red warmth drips from them
I scrape my insides with monstrous hungry fingernails.

Once I've gone too far
I keep going,
puncturing liver and lung,
finally reaching the carnivorous red thing
I want out of me more than anything.

I grasp it in two hands,
seven pounds of ripe, contorting muscle,
sending blood through arteries and now to the world outside.

I want to show this creature its own sins;
I rip it from its place behind my breast,
severing vein from vein.
It continues to thrash like it knows what's coming.

I carry it to the kitchen table,
find your knife in my hands
and press down gingerly,
sweetly carving your name into this demon which betrayed me.
Squirming, writhing, it tries to get away,
but it is me and I am it.

I destroy it as it let you destroy me,
relish the sight of you rushing from my own veins.
Satisfied, I walk to the sink
and rinse you off of the metal blade.
Written by
Emily Pancoast
988
   Alyssa J and Tessellate
Please log in to view and add comments on poems