i used to think
the wounds
were the worst part.

but it's the scars.

“what are we?” she asked

with despair, he replied, ”we’re nothing”

and for a second i remembered why i fell in love with you all those years ago
it wasn’t just the laugh or the way your eyes lingered for a half a second too long but the way you made me feel in your presence,
like there was nothing else in the world that could draw your attention from my words.
but then i remembered, the temper, the walls, the vast insecurities that strangled you at night, and i remembered why i moved on,
you could never love me the way you loved being lost and i knew
i could never find you.

it was a dark
and stormy night

like a helium high
an oxygen-deprived
emotional overdose
a blackout -
where everything is
gone (nothing matters)
but more vivid and real than ever -

it is a shaking
ugly-crying
bad-photo-filter
no breathing
no seeing
gross-teen PSA
feeling -
that i know all too well.

that disgusting
terrified
frantic
helpless
plastic

feeling -

was my worst enemy for years.

you can try
to bleed it out
scream it out
**** it

but it is you -
you are fighting yourself
and you can't win

but it went away.
and there were good days
days that i laughed -
days that i felt loved -

but somehow
those terrifying
angry
cold (but too hot)
dont-touch-me
hold-me-tight

nights

are all i can remember.

i don't get to remember
my tenth birthday
or when my sister was born
or my friends laughing
or my teachers congratulating

because my ****** up brain
is too greedy
and it ate all of those memories
so that all i have is now -

all i have is you
and i know exactly how you feel
and i hate it
because i want to fix it
but i can't even begin to know how
when i can't even fix myself