first her words seem off the mark, they were painful regardless people words do hurt and you **** it very nice they ruin you forgetting pride so I had no choice I shouted I lied I use damaging words with false purpose

they s h o u t

and it feels like a million splinters
hit me in the chest, where it isn't
supposed to hurt.

they s t a r e

into thin air and the silence
is deafening and all I can
do is add to it.

they t a l k

but never to each other.
they're just like strangers;
two ghosts moving around
in one house.

they b r e a k

but I'm the only one broken, and
everyone smiles and tells me it's
just another fight.

they l i e*

and say that they're fine, and tell
me it's okay, and tell me it's stupid
that I don't believe that they love
each other

anymore.

i have this reoccurring dream, it's me,
standing unearthly in the front of the altar, did god bring me to his home or is this just what they call church?
lonesome, that helter-skelter tenebrous loneliness, estrangement all around
pews blessed with the strange vacancy i relate with the open ended depth of my heart, as if people were supposed
to be there, as if people were
supposed to believe
i'm spitting up blood now, this isn't how to mend and no; who are we kidding, this is exactly how we knew it all would end
veiled with
necklaces, wrapping songs of Hail Mary around my throat,
the layered thought that god could look down in any given second
and strangle me with his own prayer,
you see i'm shouting at the ceiling but
tears only result in bent puddles on the floor
faith only results in a plethora of bibles, and the ashes of their contents.
slitting my wrists with every unanswered scream, every unlearned rosary
he's laughing at me, he's laughing at me, this ungiving god, furnishing a strange pigment to the room, staining a strange potency
transmitting this repulsive image- this memory, of this entity, of this effigy- we're all on hands and knees. withering, it's relentless,
tampering with the various degrees of energy and just what am i here for,
maybe that question is it, maybe
it's me,
maybe it's the way i was made and maybe it's the way i never called you back and
maybe it's that the day i was created was the day god cracked and
it's rumored my nostalgia-grade voice grips the air the way his hands hugged nails
i'm sifting through the times when these mumbling statues shattered, every rejected cross was found dropped,
the day i was created god became bilious and vomited for the next 16 years,
maybe it's today that he'll stop

I apologize if I'm too persistent in telling you that you matter to me and my heart in ways no one ever has. I've become melancholy in the thought of being alone since I have never been treated like anything but a waste of space and values on a clock. Years have gone by since I've felt like I truly existed to anyone for reasons beyond carnal need and emotional comprehension. I'm not accustomed to feeling a purpose. I've become distant from my own mental standpoint and blood-pumping center whereas I can find no direction. I've been abandoned by those who claimed they would never surrender. I've been damaged by those who stated they could never, would never, misuse me.
When you re-arrived in this shattered existence of mine and evaluated me as an actual being with sentimental value, instead of falling apart, I found myself falling together. Every last piece of me discovering the significance of who I am, always have been, and hopefully always will be. I lost multiple opportunities in which I could express to you the amount I care for your entire essence, I could beg to show you now. However, I will do so as you're willing.
Prepared.
Consenting.
Wanting.
You appeared in my life and became a part of the character I never expected to be. "Tu me manques." You are missing from me.