Nov 2014
I don’t think my mom remembers the way she held my face in her hands, my eyes watching tears race down her cheeks. She pressed her lips on my forehead and I could smell the whiskey she had downed, already knowing the different “medicine” (that’s what she called it) that made Mommy forget how Daddy left us and avoid staring at the kitchen knife, to attempt suicide again. She became angry and slapped me across the face with her hand, and I swear I heard the same sound you made when you slammed the door in my ******* face, making my whole house shake.
I remember later on walking into my parent’s closet, a 40 in my hand and a bit of blood dropping to the floor. Every time I thought about you I would etch a line into my skin and taste the alcohol that burned the back of my throat, to remember the way you tasted when you kissed me. The paramedics told my parents that it was a miracle that they could find my pulse that morning.
I can’t write without seeing your name in every poem, making me rip it to shreds, screaming, “I need you.”
I tried finding you in other people, no matter how pathetic and naïve I am, I kissed their lips but all I could think about was how your body felt against mine. I searched for you in the back of my car, where we would spend rainy days with your hands skimming my bare skin and your lips in my ears whispering, “Babe, I’m forever.” Now all that’s left in the back of my car is your shirt and empty antidepressant bottles.
I searched for your blue shade of eyes that always made my lungs stop breathing, I didn’t even realize I was suffocating, and we both knew that was my biggest fear.
I accidentally phoned you, anxiety erupting inside me. Sad and ******, I stared at your ******* name and wondered why the **** wasn’t I good enough for an apology after you destroyed the person I was and left me in pieces. You didn’t even ******* care enough to revisit the person you “wasted 9 months on.”
I always believed that I would become as transparent as you made me feel, I was beginning to believe I would disappear without you.
Sometimes I hear your empty promises echo off my walls while I try to forget the way you held me, like I would once again fade into nothing if you weren’t touching me. But that didn’t ******* stop you from leaving.
And now I am as empty as the bottles I drink because the universe has been screaming at me that she isn’t the one.
I remember later on walking into my parent’s closet, a 40 in my hand and a bit of blood dropping to the floor. Every time I thought about you I would etch a line into my skin and taste the alcohol that burned the back of my throat, to remember the way you tasted when you kissed me. The paramedics told my parents that it was a miracle that they could find my pulse that morning.
I can’t write without seeing your name in every poem, making me rip it to shreds, screaming, “I need you.”
I tried finding you in other people, no matter how pathetic and naïve I am, I kissed their lips but all I could think about was how your body felt against mine. I searched for you in the back of my car, where we would spend rainy days with your hands skimming my bare skin and your lips in my ears whispering, “Babe, I’m forever.” Now all that’s left in the back of my car is your shirt and empty antidepressant bottles.
I searched for your blue shade of eyes that always made my lungs stop breathing, I didn’t even realize I was suffocating, and we both knew that was my biggest fear.
I accidentally phoned you, anxiety erupting inside me. Sad and ******, I stared at your ******* name and wondered why the **** wasn’t I good enough for an apology after you destroyed the person I was and left me in pieces. You didn’t even ******* care enough to revisit the person you “wasted 9 months on.”
I always believed that I would become as transparent as you made me feel, I was beginning to believe I would disappear without you.
Sometimes I hear your empty promises echo off my walls while I try to forget the way you held me, like I would once again fade into nothing if you weren’t touching me. But that didn’t ******* stop you from leaving.
And now I am as empty as the bottles I drink because the universe has been screaming at me that she isn’t the one.
she doesn't ******* deserve my poetry man
