Dysphoria

The Things You Left Behind

i'm tryin to be good
but there are bullet holes where
your fingers touched me
god, i think i've been in the dark now
for so long
and it's so wrong, because i got
exit wounds where your
words tore through me
and empty bruises where
your selfishness stomped its feet

i think they call it battle-worn
and i'm still here where i left me
between the fronts in no man's land
war-torn-
i want to scream
you have ruined me
because i can't get these fragments
out of me
i'm still waiting for the dawn to break
and ignite everything in a blazing fire
or a flooding light

(just like your wandering eyes did
when we were young)

i didn't realize what damage heat can do
to flesh so bare
so i poured you out all over me
until i was undone
and shaking
but after the fire has gone
all that's left is ash and wilted skin
so now i know

better.

so this is me
     since you've gone
i'm tryin' to be good and hold onto
the parts of me that were untouched
before you
because i guess i didn't realize i had
to wear a gas mask just to walk through you
that must be why they call it damage
(or wounded)

well it's all on me now,
i discovered too late
that your body was a battlefield
and there were grenades on your tongue
when it tasted me
splintered inside of me,
like shrapnel blooming out in spiraling designs
that remind me of the curved letters in your name,
or the way your quiet words sprouted in the air between us,
and i sometimes miss the friend you used to be
when i awake at 3am before i remember
the two years it's been
since the war has ended,
and i want to chant the words out of me

   you've ruined me

       you've ruined me

           you've   r  u  i  n  e  d   me

like a proclamation of defeat
but i am still here, and i have not fallen
and you were just an ugly night,
on foreign land, where missiles flew overhead
so now i know

better.