only those who describe so detailed
the rise before the inevitable fall
to recall is the best part of it all
she was in love with all that was flaw
because perfection was all she saw
i caught you falling down
hoping you wouldn't end up dead
the cord whipping uselessly at my arms
i wrap it 'round my hands
bruised and black and blue
but it won't be enough to save you
it never was enough to just save you
honey and thread before i go to bed
to stick down my throat and pull out
all the feeling i have
sweet brings it out more than sour
decaying past rotten
bruised and black and blue
rip it out
hook stuck in the mouth of a fish
slipping and gripping at the same time
waking up
throwing up
sickness spreading among the cold lines
once again i remember
i don't need a partner
i don't need a companion
i don't need a heart
my head rests on the bowl
feel the heartbeat in my feet and my ears
company isn't what i need
two heads splitting
i think im sick.
YOU ARE READING
I'll Be Fine (pt. 2 of 2)
Poetrypoetry showing my stress. relieving, coping, really. continuing to add poems, sometimes daily. use this as place to talk about your own frustrations and dances with pain and strife
