I have this tendency to weight words
before making my own judgment.
some would call me silly -
how can vowels and syllables mean so much
when they are suspended,
weightless in the air.

but do you know that it takes only a roll of an eye
for a susceptible teenager
to pull the trigger to their gun
and no one gives a **** –
not until you find them in the toilet
dead
and maybe that’s why when
you told me you were worried
I laughed bitterly

I could not help it –
could not help the resentment
bubbling up
the surface of my consciousness;
I cannot forgive
the way you throw out pretty words,
your voice laced with concern –
you were not there when I was only inches away from a knife
and I cannot forgive myself
for believing in you – inheriting weakness
that came from holding onto silver promises
in the form of words

maybe my skin is just a little too thin
and my pride is a little too strong
that every blunt word,
every roll of the eye
does not only bruise my ego
but crushes the very earth I stand on
leaves me wondering
why I should even try
because each attempt
was scoffed at, mocked by
the people I thought cared –
but each time I tried they showed me
exactly why trusting people is
another one of my long lines of mistakes
travelling down
my wrists;
my thighs
the side of my waist
my arms
but that's another story to tell
one that doesn't belong to this poem