how many times do I have to burn your name into my clothes? your smell lingers, It’s the closest reminder of the places I tore down to make a home I never knew. how many times do I have to break my wrists? I still feel the way you gnawed on my bones, sharp words that you dug deep into my rib cage. I don’t want these cold hands that once held the warmth of being stable. how many times will I fall to my knees? dripping blood, pleads of forgiveness that’ll only be washed away; never heard. how long will I be afraid?