I'm sorry my internal wounds,
are too damaged for your
clean subconscious,
to lay a finger on.
and i’m sorry
if my problems
are a burden,
but i have more secrets
buried beneath my mind
than you have lies
inside your throat.  
and I am sorry
that I am too much for you.
but my problems
are me.
and if you can’t accept
every part of me
you don’t deserve
any part of me.

and each time your fingers
press against my flesh
i wish i was dead
but with each moment
of intimacy
breeds a repressed memory.
so forgive me,
if i must drink
to be able to love you.
forgive me,
for cringing when I’m sober
but the last person
I gave my heart to
intentionally ****** me,
unwillingly.
just like all the men before me
the ones who are demons
of my memory,
chasing after me.

the only man I’ll ever love
goes by the name Jack,
and he can ease my troubled mind
and make me forget
in ways no actual person can,
so call me Mrs Daniel's
and put a ring upon my finger
followed by a shot class
and let me forget
about what I wish didn’t exist.
I’ve heard once
that misery loves company,
but what happens
when i’m more miserable
than you.

so no company,
would ever actually want me.
misery loves company,
but it remains unrequited.