my story exists in the lower keys
the ones that strike your heartstrings and echo in your empty chest.
it lies in the shadows just outside of the glow that a streetlight provides
on a dark, cold night.
check the bruises on your arms, and the slashes on your legs
it'll be there, too.
it's in the nights spent sitting in the shower with the water running cold
the numbness, that's it.
it's feeling too weak to get out of bed in the morning
and having only the energy to stare at the wall.
the tiny cut on your finger you didn't know was there until you squeezed a lime
it's the stinging.
that's where I exist
in the pain
in the dark
in the lower keys.