I’m tired of bruised flesh and scarred tissue. I’m tired of tear soaked sheets and memory foam pillows that never forget to remind me every time I lay my head.
Memories of how I’m broken, how my heart only beats through broken fragments, like spaces between the stars. I’m reminded, of all the oceans I’ve cried, all the storms that killed me, all the times the air seemed to slip through lungs. How could I forget? When the slits on my wrists still itch, when I can still see the rope burns around my neck. It’s hard to forget the nights i spent between the sheets of depression, the days I danced with death in the rain.
I can still taste the pills in the back of my throat.
How could I forget the hollow grave yard my body became. A casket I was damned to. Stretch marks like paths all leading to my demise. My size fed my need to put down my running shoes, to turn the bedside lamp off. The heart wants what it wants and mine wanted to stop. Each beat felt like a nail in my coffin.
I still remember, all the nights I lay swollen and battered. No, you never raised a hand, but beneath this skin I was bruised. I can’t forgot how I no longer cried. I gushed, till I was empty and my body was left frail and my limbs weak. I was a scene waiting for the crime to happen, “do not cross” lines already taped around me.
I tried to escape my foretold fate, but with all the running I did, all I ever lost was my mind
So I lay myself down, waiting for my grave to open and take me, have me, keep me, save me from the clutches of life
For there are fates, far worse than death.
Most nights are hard to forget, how I tossed and turned waiting for the sandman to bring unending sleep.