[▶] for safekeeping.

candle

in a world like this
what's it like when you have to
kill
your first one?
the first person. the first soul.
a very real human being with a history and a family and friends and relationships and a present -
which you'd presently cut short.

I'm not sure.
I imagine it's much like
breaking your first heart-
leaving them glossy-eyed as you walk away
trudging steps in the cement of the still-drying blood in their heart
leaving a permanent mark there forever.
much like extinguishing a candle for the last time.

you wonder what it's like when you're always on the receiving end
how much can one break before it has to end?
surely one day the string has to pull taut
and bend under pressure
the springs reverberating on the insides of the echoing chambers of your mind as the nails scratch against the backs of your eyes and tears through teeth and skin and all you smell is metal and blood and more metal and the sound of iron is just grating and screeching and tearing into your steel facade bit by bit-
until it snaps.

and then you fall with nothing but the broken tightrope hanging in the emptiness of the cliff
above you.
pity, isn't it?

I feel so uninspired.

he put a candle in a hollow tv and let it burn -
and I put my candle in the middle of all my papers and books and
watched everything burn

I'm not sure if I should be glad that everything went up in flames
or if one person melting alone was better after all
maybe both of those things happened.

when brick walls don't seem to feel the same and the rough
cuts through your cheek
you think it'd be easier wielding the shard
carving into skin and drawing rivers of blood from your chest
still can't seem to die

murderous yet only an intent
meant for one.
I somehow hate everything I am
despite having grown to love me.
I wonder how tired another person would be dealing with me.

I take a breath and I
slice again.