you always danced that line between yes and no so elegantly, tracing hearts in my skin and whispering your devotion. you told me what i wanted to hear and what i so desperately wanted to believe. you called me beautiful as i sobbed into your shoulder and begged for you to just listen.
smearing the blood on my thighs, you called me beautiful and dug your fingernails into my hips, pushing me down, down, down, pinning my arms back, "you're beautiful" you'd say. but-
"you're beautiful" you'd whisper. a gentle coaxing, a veiled threat. i'd get to know that look, those tricks, those lies.
i lay sprawled across unwashed bedsheets with the dirty clothes and broken promises and whatever remained of me, and you'd tell me
"you're beautiful"
but i didn't feel beautiful when my eyes were red and dull, hair patchy and matted. i didn't feel beautiful when it was over and you left without a word, without an apology, an acknowledgment that you even saw me. just a look,
a look that told me i wasn't really all that beautiful in the first place.
YOU ARE READING
Borderline
PoesíaBorderline is a collection of poems and vent work written by somebody with Borderline Personality Disorder. There is a huge trigger warning as a lot of the poems and vents are very raw and real emotions or experiences that can be triggering to those...
