10:12pm, march 10 2018.
you are blood in my throat,
coughing you up & i choke,
i'm still healing from you -
and sometimes i wonder,
do you have anything to heal from too?
but i don't humanize you,
you're the only one i'd do that too -
what you did was not human,
and now i'm just learning how to feel like one again.
you fucked me up and i want you to feel fucked up, too. as broken as i do, as helpless as i do, as scared as i do; wake up in the middle of the night because my name entered a dream turned nightmare, panicking the way i do sometimes and wincing tears out from your eyes like physically hurts to breathe. i never cried much until you entered my life. i'm dealing with the pain now, i'm remembering the things i managed to blissfully ignore before - here are the five stages, out of order.
YOU ARE READING
do you think he sees me as just a pretty face?
Poetrysad sap space babe poetry, 2017-2018 'cause writing it out is medicinal. do you think all he sees is a pretty face, or is that too conceited of me to say? at this point maybe that's the best that it gets.
