PIEL DE MIEL

2:13 am

the candy-coated nostalgia of my mind
is what draws you in. looking at me
is even more euphoric than it used to
be, i can see it in the abyss of your eyes.
and as i lay on the table waiting to
be scrutinized by your surgical eyes, i
think that you don't need a microscope
to see the damage that's left in me.
but you take it out anyway, and begin
dissecting me in a way that only benefits
you and impresses the others. you take
a look under my skin, see how it's
tapered off at my fingers because i've
tried to sever what i used to feel you
(because you're still there and god
help me find a way to rid myself of
you). seeing the way my bones are
glitter-glued together because there's
no way i'd tell you how you managed
to get inside them and i tried to get
you out, it has you biting your tongue.
i want you to take a look at my face,
you'll see how my lips are cracked
because i've tried to bite off the honey
you left to stick on them, look at my
eyes and you'll see that i taped them
open because i've begun to force
myself to look at you because i'm
beginning to love the sweet torture.
you look deeper than that, though,
because you've always enjoyed
tearing me apart for your benefit.
you look at my brain, and see how it's
withered because my mind plays
nothing but symphonies of your
laughter and there's always that
repetitive youremineyouremine
playing in the background and only
god knows how to get it to stop.
there's only one more place left to
look, and you've saved the best for
last because you really want to show
everyone what you've really been
able to do to me. so you take a
look at my chest, and delve deeper
to get to where my heart should be,
but you're not sure if it's there
because i know you know that you
might have taken a part of it with
you to wear on your sleeve. but you
smile, because it's there, but it's not
much. it's bleeding out all over your
acid-drenched fingers, and the blood
is nothing more than crimson tears
that it's held in for too long. it's
swollen with the pain that you've
put it through, not only because it's
in your hands but because this isn't
the first time you've held it, and
you've done much more than squeeze
and pull and bend the tissue. your
eyes travel along the veins and you
think, there's no way these veins
aren't rotten, because you don't think
anyone, anything can survive the
wooden stake that you've driven into
me so many times you've lost count.

but here i am, resilient but under
your mercy. you're holding my life in
your hands as you put me under
your precious microscopic view for
everyone to see. you want them to
clap at the revelations you've learned
about what the human body can
withstand. everyone admires you, and
there's nothing but reverence in their
eyes that seem to not be working
right. and you're happy, because you've
managed to pull me apart with your
bare hands again.

but i smile too, because soon i'll be able
to do the exact same thing to you, but
i'm sure that i'll have much more pleasing
results.