and now you'll never call me darling.
i want to fight.
i want to hit and kick and punch and break and smash.
i want to grab you by the shoulders,
pop your blades and legs out of socket,
tear off your limbs,
rip off your head
and scream.
i want to destroy.
i want to maim and tear.
and then i want to rebuild.
(we were sad, but now we're rebuilding.)
i want to be your ruination and your salvation.
i want to bring you to your knees, then exalt you.
i want to break you apart, shatter you: painstakingly glue your fragments together.
i want to make you better.
i want to make you perfect.
i want to recreate you.
i want to destroy you and save you from them, and us, your memories, your illusions, your pain.
i want to scrub their fingertips off your skin,
bleach the memory of their lips from yours.
erase their dedications in your books.
fill that dent in your pillow that leaves you aching.
your best friend.
your metaphysical mother.
your god.
there is a trifecta of frustration in my life,
and i honestly admit that i am part of the triangle.
i am never completely honest with anyone,
especially myself
but it is becoming harder and harder to pretend.
i am not happy,
and i know that i am partly responsible.
i should have said what i wanted.
i should not have compromised.
i should not have waited.
i should not have been so impulsive.
i should not have listened.
i should have listened harder.
i'm almost 22.
i do not have a home.
i fell in love and laid down for that love and bent over backwards just to barely traipse my fingers across its surface for mere seconds over the weeks and months and years because i was scared.
and now here i am.
i'm scared to say what i want.
i'm scared to fight.
i am scared to steel my spine and brace myself against the winds when i'm used to falling flat, slipping under cover and waiting for sunlight.
there is a lot i don't want to lose (and a lot i wished i hadn't), a lot i want to fight for, a lot i want to fix and i'm worried it's too late.
why do i make it so hard?
i'm the one who does it.
i am fighting my own person.
teach us to care and not to care.
teach us to sit still.
and let me find a damn apartment.
i want to hit and kick and punch and break and smash.
i want to grab you by the shoulders,
pop your blades and legs out of socket,
tear off your limbs,
rip off your head
and scream.
i want to destroy.
i want to maim and tear.
and then i want to rebuild.
(we were sad, but now we're rebuilding.)
i want to be your ruination and your salvation.
i want to bring you to your knees, then exalt you.
i want to break you apart, shatter you: painstakingly glue your fragments together.
i want to make you better.
i want to make you perfect.
i want to recreate you.
i want to destroy you and save you from them, and us, your memories, your illusions, your pain.
i want to scrub their fingertips off your skin,
bleach the memory of their lips from yours.
erase their dedications in your books.
fill that dent in your pillow that leaves you aching.
your best friend.
your metaphysical mother.
your god.
there is a trifecta of frustration in my life,
and i honestly admit that i am part of the triangle.
i am never completely honest with anyone,
especially myself
but it is becoming harder and harder to pretend.
i am not happy,
and i know that i am partly responsible.
i should have said what i wanted.
i should not have compromised.
i should not have waited.
i should not have been so impulsive.
i should not have listened.
i should have listened harder.
i'm almost 22.
i do not have a home.
i fell in love and laid down for that love and bent over backwards just to barely traipse my fingers across its surface for mere seconds over the weeks and months and years because i was scared.
and now here i am.
i'm scared to say what i want.
i'm scared to fight.
i am scared to steel my spine and brace myself against the winds when i'm used to falling flat, slipping under cover and waiting for sunlight.
there is a lot i don't want to lose (and a lot i wished i hadn't), a lot i want to fight for, a lot i want to fix and i'm worried it's too late.
why do i make it so hard?
i'm the one who does it.
i am fighting my own person.
teach us to care and not to care.
teach us to sit still.
and let me find a damn apartment.