This pain in my chest is unbearable
Im walking hand in hand with death
His fingers digging into my palms
leaving my fingers numb and empty
My heart is too soft for the harsh words my brain conjures
sometimes, her sentences are long whips of self hatred
Reopening scar tissue from long ago that have not healed in the slightest
Sometimes, she speaks softly, her edges and curves and handles made of nurturing love only a mother could give
She is a storm of anger and impossible scenarios
creating rain clouds out of memories
pouring her acidic worry in the veins in my arms
I am an addict of hers,
hating the feeling of her in my stomach eating away at me raw
yet awaiting my next fix
I do not feel like my feet are on the ground when her weight is not on me
But sometimes I wish she didn't call me
my heart is too soft,
like tissue paper
set astray in a field
Where Nightmares get mistaken for live pictures
Moving from deaths fingertips
into mine
so Everything I touch, she destroys
right along with me
