Pouring my psyche on the page

We haven't talked in weeks

Which doesn't mean we're broken up, because you have to be going out with somebody

Before they can break up with you, but I still have the taste of your lips on mine

So what does that mean?

3 weeks ago, when I began this hiatus incommunicado

I told myself I would talk to you again when it wouldn't be about making myself bleed

And I waited for my scars to fade enough to hold a ****** normal conversation

I’m still waiting

I once told you how bad I can make myself

How I can get trapped in that train of thought that leads to razors and scars

I was shaking because I was so far into it

Losing feeling, warmth, and control over my limbs far too rapidly

I always get cold when it hurts like this

I'm so cold I can see my breath on an 80 degree perfect day

But I refuse to find warmth in other people again

See I do this thing, and I know I do

Where I find somebody with such good inside them

Find somebody whose soul is somehow just so ******* beautiful

And then I destroy that

Don't believe me?

Look at each of my ex-boyfriends and my far-too-close friends

Observe that haunted look in their eyes

I've ruined them

You don't see it but you are so good

And I refuse to destroy that

I'm ****** up

There are days when each breath feels like a car crash

Which is ironic because the last time I was in a car crash

I couldn't really breathe for a week

I am crushed metal and crushed lungs

And you should know enough to run

So we haven't talked in weeks

Let’s hope it lasts

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