You've tasted the good parts of me and spit them out.
They were of no use anymore and
all you left me with was this black area that I tip-toe around.
I put on makeup, band aids, gauze and wrap,
but I'm always so careful not to touch it.
It makes me flinch with searing pain;
it would crumble my soul again with just a deep look in.
That soul I fought so **** hard to save,
but yet here I am:
staring
gazing
into the mirror all along the jagged edges of this hole.
I trace the mirror reflection of it with my fingers.
My angry fingers, bruised, red, cracked...
Fingers that would have never looked good in a ring from you.
Maybe just for tonight,
"Just for tonight." would be what an addict would say, I think with a laugh.
But maybe just for tonight, I'll dip in.
So I shut off my phone with sad, angry fingers
that would have never been beautiful.
I was beyond ready to be swallowed up.
Taking my ring finger,
the finger a ring would have lost shine to be on if someone had ever seen me that way,
and dip it in the liquid black abyss.