For once
it's my heart that's the loud one
instead of my head.
It's pounding on the walls of my chest,
threatening to snap my ribs
every time you look at me.
I might have to let you rip it out
just to show me
how it feels
to have silence.

I told myself that I was done with this
but here I am again,
stuck trying to follow heartlines
on the hands that let me fall.

Just like the trees,
I turn into a skeleton for the winter.
But my bones don't drop leaves,
they shed my very soul
until I am left with nothing
except the bitter cold
that seeps into my marrow.

I am trapped here
in yet another metaphorical cage
with nothing to do
but talk about everything that is wrong with me.
They're turning me into someone
who even I don't recognize
and I'm terrified of losing myself
and everything that I have ever fought for.

You wedged your fingers
between my ribs
and pried them apart
like the lid off a casket.
You crushed my lungs
and made it impossible to breathe.
Then you found my heart
buried under years of lost emotion.
You held it in your hands
and ripped it from my chest.
You inspected every inch of it,
then threw it to the ground
and left me to rot
but what you didn't realize
is that you caused all that blackness.

I was chain smoking cigarettes
to try and **** the demons
before they arrived.
But every breath burned
for days afterwards
and the demons still came.
They grew in my damaged lungs
and crept into my broken heart.
They made their home
among all my jagged edges.
I can feel them in there,
eating my happiness before it can form,
slowly killing me.

Winter is my favorite season
because it reminds me so much of myself.