Written 2/15/17
I'm cowering in on myself,
Folding over as the flames lick the walls
Of these cardboard lungs.
That night took all of me and most of you.
Truthfully, I hope it still haunts you.
The days, the nights, and everything in between.
It's tempting to look you up.
Last time I did, it was almost that night all over again.
There's still pictures you took back when we were together.
No one knows but us.
I hope it hurts.
I hope it ruined certain days, songs, books, movies, holidays, and even foods for you.
Like it did for me.
I hope when you catch a scent
You'll think it's my perfume,
And I hope you break inside.
Like I do.
Vanilla lights the match.
The world I've spent a thousand hours in therapy rebuilding,
Ignites every time I hear your name.
I hope when you hear mine,
Your throat closes up.
I hope one day, it doesn't reopen.
v.e.s.
YOU ARE READING
Cardboard Lungs
Poetry"Demons floating in my morning cereal." "Ink isn't the only thing bleeding tonight." A collection of my poetry. *I do not promote self harm or any other negative coping skills. My poetry is my outlet for preventing those actions in my own life, so I...
