The Devil's Love-Ridden Abuse II POETRY Second Edition

034

I want you to walk in that door
just as you did a few months ago
and kick off your shoes
and take a drink from my open bar
but it would be a lie
to say it's all the same
just waiting for your return

the bottles are smashed
glass and liquid on the floor
furniture turned over
photographs shredded
and frames smashed
my bed unmade and a wreck
blood stains on the sheets
clocks no longer keeping time
stuck on 3:04
when everything went to pieces
when I lost the one thing
that made me the best

the front door
no longer latches right
and the screen is clawed like an animal
the coat rack mounted on the wall
hangs diagonally,
result of a bad bloody night

my act is no longer clean
I've got drugs in my ashtray
razors on my nightstand
empty bottles on the counter
too many painkillers littering my cabinets
this isn't just an existential crisis

I've destroyed the home inside of me
bruises on my knuckles
dried blood on my face
no one lives here
no one visits
not anymore
destroyed to ashes
and broken glass

not another person
will enter this threshold

it's never gonna be quite right for them
I can't be a home for them
and I never will be
heart constructed of glass
encased in steel

welcome home