it’s not romantic. nor love lost. it just is.
it’s not the end of the world. and it isn’t a travesty
because it never was
but i feel small. and ugly.
i wanted something enough to be blind.
but guilt is heavy.
chains that sink.
holding you accountable would be a watery grave
because i am the only one who feels
it was my love. and my mistake. and my loss.
and thus, my internment. my laying to rest.
this is your nighttime;
but my bad behavior.
but my willingness.
i use your weakness to avoid my own,
and i squander the sadness for myself.
delightful ignorance. a painful forgetting. a numbness that eats.
free-flowing thoughts. about nothing at all. except for the despondency in everything.
i break me down. for easy consumption. disgusted with what i produce.
i hate my own bullshit,
despise my own character,
and swallow my own lows.
in my own depression
it will all be over
melt me into the wall.
i want to be invisible,
i want to have no insides
and i want never to be seen.
i look to hide inside this- nothingness.
sink into this void.
i hope for these words to ooze out of me. to seep out of my pours.
to perspire out my sadness.
i feel disgusting
i hate myself.
my breastbone shatters and snaps as he plunges his fist though my chest, extracting my beating heart. simultaneously ending me and keeping me alive he holds my heart out in front of me. rhythmically pumping it to keep me going.
i curse my ribs for not protecting me. my frail guardians asleep at the hearth. curse their weakness and inability to see what it was they were standing at the gates to.
i look up into his eyes for mercy. for clemency. but it is impossible to levy someone with nothing at stake. nothing on the table to be lost.
a final wrench away from me and my heart is ripped clear from my body, vitals in tow. a last gulp of air and i fall to my knees; thorn having been shed. hands by my sides, chest open and bare, i dread the breath to come.
because i dont want the pain to be over.
i am not ready to live without my heart.