"I love you, I miss you, I trust you,"
Lie again and I'll tear out your ugly, useless throat.
I don't deserve this-- these lonely isolations inundated in the lacerations of self-doubt.
I don't deserve the desperation to numb the coiling constrictions buried in my chest with deafening chords and fleeting distractions.
I'm not supplementing my body with fire-side scars or augmenting my empty husk with narcotics,
I'm only trying to preserve and persevere.
So why did I mean so little to you.
You saw me bleeding from my smile but rather than aid, you transfused my crimson life into your own hollow veins since you'd already bled your share.
You saw the lavender halo on my neck and disregarded me.
This could have been avoided.
You could have tried-- at least tried.
--
You're a pretty face stitched to a necrotic heart.
I regret ever setting myself aflame to keep you warm, only to have you stomp out my coals.
"I still want you,"
"Let's see what happens naturally."
Lie again and I'll root out your ugly, useless throat.
YOU ARE READING
Bleak and Vibrance
PoetryWe learned how to speak as children, so why are we learning to speak all over again.
