the way these metaphors
aren't a safe place anymore.
the quiet ways in which
i have forgotten myself.
the way we never say
what we need to say.
me pouring salt in my
open wounds just to
feel something again.
your never spoken apology.
how you kissed me
like you needed it.
the mess we made of it.
my slow urgency
to detach every piece
of me from you.
the shirt you left
on the corner of my bed.
how i called you
crying last week.
the way i've always been
addicted to self-destruction.
how i'd rather choke
on my own words
than let you go.
