my minds like a child screaming,
and i'm full of headaches,
all these thoughts that i can't shake lose,
like brambles on my brain.
i wanted you to fix me,
instead you just wanted to **** me.
that was my mistake, again.
i tend to make them.
i have a thing for narcissists.
you can't be straight up and i'm too forward.
vulnerable is the new ****.
not stupid, vulnerable.
you asked about my brother and i stuttered,
i didn't know what to say.
maybe that was the first time i made you
uncomfortable,
because you realized i was a person.
the picture stared down at us from
the staircase,
isn't it odd how the dead can still watch us,
make us feel guilty.
you left with mumbled apologies,
the door slammed as you went,
it left a quiet emptiness within.
maybe that was easier,
there's already enough ghosts in this house
without you becoming one too.