every guilt trip you’ve hung above my head is what keeps me slouching.
the words pile out of your mouth
my heart won’t slow down,
I'm melting into my bedroom floor,
but adrenaline makes me want to turn around.
your hands grace the railing
as the screen door hinges shut
long gone,
forever wishing that pit in my stomach would have been enough.
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 2:41 PM UTC
every guilt trip you’ve hung above my head is what keeps me slouching.
the words pile out of your mouth
my heart won’t slow down,
I'm melting into my bedroom floor,
but adrenaline makes me want to turn around.
your hands grace the railing
as the screen door hinges shut
long gone,
forever wishing that pit in my stomach would have been enough.
