I forgot how to breathe.
learned how to fall,
never learned how to land.
the tangle of arms and
legs and the murals of
bruises. all the well meaning
friends asking if I'm okay,
watch me skin my knees,
don't understand how much
harder I've skinned my soul.
my lungs haven't tasted
fresh air for so long, and my
poor heart hasn't gone a day
without crashing violently
into my rib cage over and over.
I whisper apologies to myself
in the mirror every single night
and swallow the tainted air
and fall asleep to the poison
I feed myself while my masochistic
mind dreams up a world where
you still love me and I still know
how to breathe.