I cut the stitches from my lips
with surgical precision
and a rusty scalpel
you didn't seem to notice
the specks of orange in the maroon
trickling from my chin
my mouth, finally open
with a sore jaw, held enough
motion to release guttural cries
built over the months
mixed with the mold
on my tongue
left in the silence
the aged soundwaves
made their journey to you
in through the channels
to your brain, a long trek
between my cracked and bloodied teeth
through your soft complexion
you barely flinched and merely
bleached my agony from your palette
your dismissal was a weapon
that guided itself directly into my lungs,
then stomach, then heart
the dribble on my chin matched
the newfound gushing from the wounds
and when I reached to you
the mess on my hands couldn't touch you
you walked away, effortlessly, pristine
as more tears appeared in my skin
and I became ragged and dark red
I wish what you did truly killed me
but the slice to my throat
only caused silence
YOU ARE READING
Brain Dump
PuisiIf I write a poem, it goes here. A collection of thoughts, dreams, fears, and whatever else I see in my brain. TW: mentions of sexual assault, suicide, depression, anxiety, self harm
