Why am I still picking up the pieces
and getting cut on the shards
Why am I still trying to glue myself together
with hands that shake and tremble
at the thought of you
It's like I'm building a puzzle with no picture
I don't even remember what I used to look like
but every time I think I get close
you remind me of your presence,
with your whisper-like threats
and your declarations of a love
that was rotten from the start
Why do I still worry
about the sake of your knuckles
when you never cared
about the bruises they left
Why did I let you take so much
Why does the fear still outweigh the anger
why am I still so weak
why does it still hurt
why are you still digging when you know
how bad it scares me—
what are you looking for?
What are you still looking for?
It isn't me
It can't be me
It was never me
I am not there, or anywhere
you will never find me
because you have never seen me
and sometimes I think that
is what cuts the most.
So many wounds, scabbed with time
stitched together with facades of coolness
and strength and solitude and I'm okay
but the seams burst at the smallest touch
and the blood is always fresh.
A.E
03.31.2023
YOU ARE READING
Greener | A Collection of Poems
PoetryA collection of poems and pieces for when you are waiting for the world to be green again. TW: Mental Illness, Death, SA
