The rush of adrenaline in your veins still speaks of me.
I know how much you loved damaging parts of me.
The remnants of your infliction are still there.
Faded or not they're just like scars.
I still remember the feeling of your hand around my throat.
Your fist in my ribs.
My collarbones still ache from the memories you gave me.
You killed me, or who I was.
A sociopath you were.
A sociopath you still are.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
From My Point of View
PoesíaRandom thoughts and feelings after late night breakdowns, phonecalls, anxiety attacks or anything that comes to mind really. I'm going to add a TW because these are my thoughts and I have bulimia, Manic Bipolar Disorder, anxiety, ect,. Just figured...
