we--

5

     And to think, she though to herself, I had them once. They were wrapped tightly in my grasp.  I was convinced they were mine  and they left... like everyone else.  With promises, unfulfilled  transforming into  lies, now I have to question:

Were they ever really the truth?  

     I have read and re-read every letter they sent and nothing... nothing they said hurt more than three, now limp and lifeless words.  I burned them, the words I mean, not the being.  I scorched them, ripped them into bits, made sure i stripped them lifeless.  For reading each of those words was a new cigarette burn on my arm.  A new silver trophy, paper thin.  Tears sopped up by towels already dampened by vermilion liquid: blood. Traces of the lost girl, myself ; seeming to be found through narrow openings and tunnels miles long.  I was lost, and while discovering I knew not of my way back.  I had a new prying question on my hands:

Did I want to be found?

     Found to only be lied to again.  A continuous pattern of lies dressed up in an array of fabrics, concealed by bright colors.  The face of evil drowning in disgusting social norms, attempting to blend in with the popular crowds.  They only have hopes of finding me, uncovering who i claim to be.  But what they do not know is where i truly reside.  A dark corner, a crawl space, the shadows are my home and sense of comfort. Ever since i was sentenced to constant abandonment as my karma, i could no longer depend on human beings for happiness.  People are untrustworthy, a lesson i learned after it was too late. A broken heart, caused by yet another lie... another burden. No longer did i want to carry this burden, forever wondering when the superglue i fix it with will finally hold. And another question enters my thoughts:

When will the shattered pieces finally resume their role as becoming whole once again?

     Never; that is what it seems. I wont ever be the same for this has caused my values to change.  I know now to not put both of my feet into a relationship.  For dwindling mental health comes from depending too much on a person.  Once, they held all of my happiness and became another life source.  I came to notice my beating heart mattering less and less, and theirs started to  become more.  Who they were and how they felt was more to me than anything.  I would have killed.. died.. i gave everything i was capable of providing. And it was still never enough.  New question: 

Was i ever good enough?

Maybe at one point i was.  Maybe i met the criteria in the beginning, or i was a filler.  A cork to a wine bottle, opened in a time of joy.  Yet the wine was never finished and they needed a stopper in case of a spill.  I was the stopper, the cork to stop the spill.  I was merely new paint put back over wood, just recently stripped of its paint.  I was not suffocating, where as what you said i was... it is all i ever was.  I tried to help you, i pulled you out of a depression -maybe that was a lie too- 

i am tired

i am drained

i am exhausted