When I stepped on to the train I felt the air depart from my lungs.
Nostalgia kicked in and it felt like a loaded gun to the chest.
Anxiety crept up, tip toeing up my skin like a child and flooded my veins. Realizing familiar surroundings couldn't clean up our mess and I was stuck in delusions and concepts that could.
I'd tried to forgive and forget but when I look around all I see is your hands and I'm suffocating.
You were where I used to lay now I wish it was these tracks.
No matter what I do, you're never coming back.
It was the same drive but a different person and I finally accepted that things have changed.
So I'll continue to make friends where I last saw your face.

I would drown you in the tears that I shed for you if it wasn’t for the fact that I didn’t shed any at all.
I’m sitting here with my hands in a *** of boiling water attempting to cleanse myself from the feeling of your palm against mine.
It’s hard to accept the fact that I could thoroughly wash my body to get rid of your smell but I cannot wash my senses from it.
And there is not enough water on the earth to wash the memories from my mind.
I could brush my teeth a million times, but, what would that do when I still taste your tongue on the roof of my mouth?
If I could just dig my nails through my skin and remove the burning sensation that once was your finger tips tracing my spine.
If I could shake your voice from my eardrums maybe I could sleep at night.
It's like you've imprinted your soul in mine and I want it out so ******* bad.
You wanted tough and i showed you parts of me that were sad.
They have meetings for bad habits but I couldn't sit in a room when I need you like nicotine and don't want to talk about it.

I'm still a little selfish about it.
I wanted you to bleed out I'm sorry's through every wound that's ever laid on your skin.
I wanted it to physically harm you to admit your mistakes even when it's something so simple as taking a wrong turn.

Of course you're as shallow as the bathtub I'm sitting in trying to scrub your filth from the beds of my fingernails.
But as soon as I splashed the water, my lungs started to fill up with all the garbage you regurgitated from your own down into my throat.

I sunk and you threw my headstone at me.

You were trying to paint my flesh in the shapes of your fists and its so rude of me to think it's anything less than beautiful.
1,2,3 I could count your paintings as quick as your heartbeats.

Yet, when she walked in with your keys imprinted into her skin I wondered when it was that I started tasting better than she did.
And when I stopped.
I guess I'm an acquired taste that was clearly too bitter to accommodate your tongue.

I knew that you can't make homes out of people but I didn't listen.

You're just as dangerous as every single snake etched into your chest. Your fingers mimicking their actions around my neck.
You taught me to find calm in the way my spine breaks like a mouse you chose to feed you.
And I'm starting to stitch myself up crookedly.

There are parts of me still as fragile as paper.
But I swear I’ll never break apart my ribs again just so someone can fit more comfortably inside.
I swear I’ll never tie up my veins like I did with you.
I swear I’ll remember the way my mother called me beautiful before I remember the way you said I wasn’t.
and I'll remember to cut the grass before I let someone in.

the sadness came and it didn't look like you or the words that erupted like volcanoes from your vocal chords. It looked like me with my eyes wide watching every mistake I've ever made in the mirror on my bathroom wall. It looked like every last drop of alcohol that comforts my throat at 10 in the morning. My knees bleed and I make sure I don't remember falling.

My only escape are these words but I always want to pull my eyelids over my body like my bedsheets every time I write them. I've always blamed myself for my parents silence. If my father couldn't love my mother, how could anyone ever love me? I'm ashamed of comparing that closet door to my body. And how it still comes mind every time I try to slam it shut into the depths of my mental crawl space.

I feel like the blood rushing through my veins is turning to rust and no matter how hard I try my mind refuses to rest. It runs like the second hand on a wall clock and stress crawls up my spine weaving spider webs in and out of my vertebrae. No matter how hard I try to sweep them under the beds of my finger nails like an old couch and forget, they always seem to find their way back.

I 'd crack my ribs to pull you out from where you reside inside me but I've never been strong enough.
I'd ***** up all my organs but that wouldn't make me any thinner.
My body is nothing but a hive made of bones harboring swarms of pointless thoughts and I'd do anything to exterminate them. But that's not my line of work.

The loneliness pours in waves and I can never breathe while dryly drowning. The cigarettes don't help either but when you're scratching your skin to stop thinking, they give your hands something to do. I'm losing the small grip on reality that I'm still holding onto by a pinky and thumb.
and If my walls could speak, they'd say "I'm sorry". So I'll continue to break my fingers praying I'd die in my sleep and lose myself in these bedsheets.

I wish I let the feeling in my stomach stay as empty as your promises.
And here I am scraping my knuckles trying to dig deeper into my cracks
Hoping you'll be there to pull me back when I scratch too deep below the surface.
But I was 6 feet deep without a refuge and you were handing me a shovel so I could bury myself even deeper into the thoughts that keep me under. And of course, you liked that.

I told myself it was just a dream
Just a dream that left me on my knees praying I'd fall back to sleep because if I knew I was awake, and I saw your hands, there's no way in hell I could live with that scene.
But we were more than just a movie. A nightmare concocted from the mind of a man who cracks his knuckles to the tune of shame and I would give my bones away for just a chance at a second take if it meant that you would finally learn from your iron filled mistakes.  

I wonder if when you die you can choose where you go because when I was with you I knew what hell felt like and I just want a second chance to know
But how could I ever sleep when you haunt me like a ghost that snuck it's hands underneath my clothes
And isn't religion a funny thing?
If God was real you would've stopped because I prayed so **** hard when 'no' just wasn't enough
he wasn't there when I had to wipe my blood while you were banging on the bathroom door screaming "get the **** up" and so I did.

The time I spent in your bed was like lying in my grave.
I wanna breathe in every mistake that you made until my lungs are as black as your mothers.
You know you're just like her, admit it.

You stunt my growth with your words like cigarettes burning in my throat.
And did you know, that when you touched me I wished your hands were a rope. So that when I fell in your arms I'd detach my skull from my body and I know hurting me was your hobby but I thought you'd be more gracious than to watch me while I'm rotting.

I wish the chemicals in my brain would release memories of you before they released sadness into my veins. I feel like I'm going insane, so caught up in your lies and how you've changed. I want so desperately to forget your name but it echoes through my ears every ******* day. Shut up, shut up, shut the **** up, I could yell but it wouldn't be enough. After all, you'll never listen to the words I try to construct to tell you about how I'd love to tear my skin from your touch.

And *******, after all of this, what I would give to have you put me in and out of consciousness. But I could never miss the toxic notions you let out between your lips.
those 3 words that I wish you never did
Love me? how dare you say you love me when you'd rather put your hands on me.

and how dare I say I love myself when I let it happen...