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Jul 2014
He wrote of the scars he gave her
Despite the fact that they have never met
He never spoke of the scars he left on me,
Still saying that it was my fault.
The night he drunkenly kissed me and then called me her name
He never talks about that night
Just laughs it off

He drank over losing her,
He cried over her,
As he played their song on loop.

                                                  But me,
                                                          I am his dispensable second prize pony

Do you think if he knew how bad it was, he would hold me closer?

If he knew about laying on the bathroom floor,
So angry that I could not speak
So bitter that my blood turned to venom
So broken that I was not a being anymore

I could not even escape it in my sleep.
Waking up in tears
Like a soldier dreaming of the battlefield

The  battlefield was inside me
My enemy,
The shadows that resembled him
There were no bombs
Just whispers that wrapped around my neck
"You.
Are.
Nothing."

                                      ­                                He left me alone.

As I laid on that arctic bathroom floor,
He was planning a life with her
I was the suicidal skeleton in his closet

                                                         ­             He left me alone..

At the lowest point of me
Among dreams of flights off of roofs without an umbrella

                                                       ­             He left me alone...

Now he says that he loves me
And wants me to smile as if nothing ever happened
His second stepford wife

A little piece of me is still on that bathroom floor
Looking up at me
Like a gruesome funhouse mirror

But he doesn't see them
He doesn't want to
I want to scream,
                                "Look
                                       at
                                         them!"

Mere acknowledgement like penicillin
Antibiotics eating the gangrenous, festering wounds he left

Maybe if I looked like her,
Spoke like her
He would see
                                           But alas, I will only ever be me...


                Do you think if he knew how bad it was, he would hold me closer?
Josian de Aqua
Written by
Josian de Aqua  Las Vegas
(Las Vegas)   
432
   Carrie Crusoe
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