November 13th

i)

it starts a tad too fast.

it's barely been a minute

and your lips are on mine.

you taste like the alcohol

you're not supposed to drink.

ii)

you begin to show me off to all your friends.

calling me yours,

snaking your arm around my waist,

holding my hand.

you squeeze a tad too tight.

i brush it off.

iii)

i finally told you i love you.

you said it so you could

sink the tips of your fingers into my hips

moments later.

they leave red marks in their wake,

like blunt knives drawn across pale skin.

iv)

your sheets smell like sin

and tomorrow's regrets.

i mistake the scent

for sugar and requited love.

v)

your i love yous are a habit.

mine are carved

on the inside of my lungs.

vi)

how do you carry

all that fury around in your chest,

and why must i be burned by its fire?

vii)

getting destroyed

by the man you love

is the ugliest kind

of poetry in existence.

viii)

i'm expected to take

whatever you throw at me now,

whether it be insults, or punches.

i've come to nod a bit too much.

it makes my neck hurt.

ix)

sometimes my skin stains blue,

sometimes purple.

my chest often hurts

more than the bruises.

i've committed the sin of being too familiar.

x)

if the words you spoke found a way

to ink themselves on your skin

you would not be so beautiful.

xi)

i realise i'm not as simple

as you wanted me to be,

when i notice that i have learned

to weep without tears.

xii)

when do the nightmares stop?

when do you start to feel

normal again?

clean?

I'll let you know when I find out.

xiii)

pity is a strange emotion

to feel towards a man

who burned me into ashes

and scattered them around

like dandelion feathers,

but it's all i feel for you.