“What caused it this time?”
“Don’t worry, I’m just tired.”
Every single day,
that’s what he’d say.
He was always sad, I could tell
The scars on his arms is what gave it away.
I’d get texts in the middle of the night,
Saying that he just
Might
End his life.
What’s the point?
He’d say, myself rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
There’s every point,
I’d reply
It’s whether you live, or die.
I’d be sitting on the side of my bed,
Shaking in fear whilst I awaited
an answer
Chanting quietly,
“Why can’t he text faster?”
Exactly, I don’t want to live. I have nothing to live for.
Tears would prick up in my eyes.
He can’t leave, he’s mine.
I decided to call him,
Hoping my voice would bring comfort.
“Hello.”
“Don’t do this, baby. Please.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, you’re always so happy.”
“Yeah, on the outside.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am happy – most of the time. I just enhance it hoping that it would rub off on you.”
“You sound like me, but I don’t want you to. Stay happy, that’s all I want.”
“But do you know what I want?”
I’d whisper, pulling at my hair
Sat on my bed
Drowning in tears.
“What.” He’d croak.
“I want you to be happy, to understand that I’m not some girl who doesn’t understand.”
“But you are.”
“No I’m not! Do you know how much research I’ve done on this? How I spend every single day so worried that I don’t eat anymore?”
“You what?”
“I don’t eat.”
“But you need to.”
“I’ll only eat when you stop hurting yourself.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because I’m in love with you, silly. You’re my boyfriend.”
“Fine, I’ll try. For you.”
Finally.
All this worry was killing me.
YOU ARE READING
Fingers
PoesíaJust a little something, A poem; more like, About a girl, Who fell in love with a boy, Who isn't around anymore. And many other stories, About many different people, Living very different lives, But who all seem to, Relate, To each other, In some wa...
