I am not sure what this one is about, but I like the imagery? The words are pretty it’s just a little aimless.

There’s a doggedness in having been torn apart, bone from sinew, lung from lung. “Look,” we say. “I have been broken in the worst ways imaginable.” My brain is a mess of hurt and emptiness, my nights plagued by Stygian stallions. I have months of regrets, dozens of ‘I love you’s I never should have meant. God, everything hurts and no one seems to know it. I want to taste oxygen again, I’m hungry for memories that don’t leave blood on my lips. Fix me, please. I’ve been touched gently before; I know nothing burns like skin against mine. I’m so tired of having softness stripped from my bones, why can’t somebody understand that survival stings? Hear my story, please. I’m not done telling it. 

Alright this was written at night at like… 12. It’s quality content I’m posting here, guys.

Sometimes it hits me like a truck in the middle of the night. Yours were lips I kissed, eyes used to gaze into. You were my whole world. I’ve gotten too good at forgetting who you were to me, what I thought we had. I wanted nothing more than to hear you loved me. How did I go from sweet nothings to misplacing your name so quickly? How did you break open this chasm between us? I remember now. You never touched me once, kissed me twice. Your hands were never mine to hold, but you gave them to me anyways, a false promise. I thought you were mine. You forgot to kiss me more often than you didn’t, but honey I lived for those moments when you’d remember to say goodbye. I’m tired. So tired. I can’t stop remembering. How did I go from loving you to turning my cheek?