You've given me pieces of you that I have learned to never accept and maybe it’s because they’re sharp or maybe it’s because I can’t keep my hands from shaking long enough to explain it to you.
You've given me a reason to be blind, you dared me to never open my eyes but when I asked why, all I saw was you.
If I shut my lids tight, there you are, fireworks of green and yellow and blue. Only if I open them slow enough. But I am never careful.
Do you feel that constant heaving in your throat too? It must be Gods hands wringing the life out of you.
I don’t want to say I love you anymore, but I love you so much. I can’t handle it and I don’t try to swallow too much all at once.
I just let it spill and drip and burn whoever, I can’t say that I care.
All I can attempt to do about making you leave anymore is to make you stay.
I try to steady my pencil and remember how to write your name over and over again on my notebooks till they bleed with my eyes closed and my fingers inside out.
I want to rip your chest apart and I don’t want you to ask me to return what I found inside.
It’ll all be broken anyway, you won’t want it back.