you're killing me,
drawing me in.
petting my hair and rubbing the back of my neck
the peachy fuzz standing up with the light brushing of your hands
you keep my icy hands warm,
you melt me
and you make sure blood drips into the right places
and you whisper sweet things into my ears with your milky voice.
you dip me into syrup and lay me on the bench outside
you watch the flies lick the sweetness off of me
you let them get carried away
you watch them nibble at my sugary skin
you watch the bites ooze with blood
like i'm a maple tree being tapped
i'm stuck to this bench that you left me on
left feeling the sharp lips kissing and biting my flesh
and you just get up and leave.

you make me so confused.
you yell at me to ask you whatever's bothering me
and i have to say "nothing"
and we both know it isn't "nothing"
because it's everything,
but how are you supposed to tell them "everything" is confusing?
i don't even know what to ask him.
and he tells me to spit it out
and i just swallow it
because is the conflict worth it?
he's like a mule
and i'm a mouse
and he can crush me with his hooves
and he always misunderstands me
so i leave for days
and come back when i'm dying,
in hopes that he'll bring me back to health
and he does
and he tells me he misses me
and then he disappears
and i'm too small for him to notice me until i'm being crushed.

i've never felt love and it's never felt me.
only the calloused skin of his hands rubbing my satin thighs.
only felt the soft tips of my fingers reading the stubble on his chin like brail.
and from him bursts a stream of passion and warmth that he lets drip all over me and i smear it onto my skin to feel his heat
just to bask in his sticky love
but wait- i almost forgot that it isn't love
because he hops onto the train and his body disappears at 100 miles per hour
the wind chills my bones and he leaves me homeless
and then i'll wander around, looking for a pocket of heat to hide in
with my bones thin as wires and my blood cold and sour like lemonade
and every step will ache and burn
until i find a new passenger.

you had me in large chunks
and at some points, you had me whole
i had you in crumbs
and at some points, i had you in pieces and it wasn't fair
that's part of why i had to run away
you knew me too well and all i knew of you were the tiny, sad parts
but eventually i realized that she probably knew these parts, too
and i didn't feel like i knew you at all anymore
and still, i wonder
do they know what i know?
do they know about the bullets you held so close to your skull?
or about the xanax you would lay on your tongue when the sky was starry and your blankets were wrapped around your shaking body?
or about how you are so scared of people being behind you that you shake like a puppy and sweat beads up on your freckled neck?
does she know that?
will she?