This world has gotten heavy, deep, and lazy, throwing out the old and in with the new as if

We are just trash at the curb waiting

Waiting

Thrown out with shame on our hands.

These days are growing old with our mouths full of selfish words and ugly thoughts of how to protect our skinny bodies from the swelling danger inside of our stomachs.

I never knew how selfish we could be until the daylight broke our silence and you grabbed your things and you left that day.
You left me for the burning desire for another year to exhaust a young girl’s lungs by never letting her thoughts hide in her tightly bounded hands.

Her hands used to speak to the paper.
But then she just spoke to you,
and you never understood her verses,
the language she caved into so easily,
that gave her strength to sit up straight and grow.  

She could grow for days,
writing like that, gaining everything and losing nothing.
Or losing everything and gaining nothing.
But what does it matter anyway?

That’s when you got sick of her,
throwing her out with shame on your hands.  

You never could face it yourself,
gathering the little bit of pride you had left to cover the ******* letters so clear in front of you.

You couldn’t bear that she didn’t need to rely on you anymore.