paint my bones red
dress me up like the
wolves, let me reclaim
my wild.

let the lavender in
my blood turn chaos
into quiet storm.

let me be whole
again, the full moon
on a clear night.

drips on the floor
an oil spill of
all the loss and longing
i tried i tried i tried
to hold your hands
but you let me slip
like water through
your fingers when
the weight of mine
became too heavy

my hands are empty
bruised and ******
yours are fists
yours are fists
yours are fists

quiet
pops and
bubbles
the burns and the
flesh the anger
the quiet
memory of
moments
feelings of
rightness of
balance
that aren't
there anymore
whispers of what
used to mean
okay
and not
okay anymore
not
okay

I have only been held
by careless hands
and loved by
damaged hearts.
my body has become
a graceless wasteland,
an asylum for those
who can't be saved.
I'm tired of this dented
body and this hollow life,
tired of being the water
that holds up ships and
being left to drown in
my own sea. tired of being
the savior, never the
saved. tired of being the
forgiver, tired of being
condemned.

unraveling
slowly but surely
the threads spread
all over the house
you've tripped on them
so many times but
you hardly notice
you hardly notice
how the skin hangs
from my bones now
and you hardly notice
the whisper when i speak
you hardly notice
the threads on the floor
how they spell your name
and how little I have
left to give.

an open wound
ankle bone to coffee
table, elbow scraped
against the concrete.
the knife, blade first,
the skin of your legs
the skin of your wrists
your ribs. curled like
lace, drawn on like
sketchpad. the ache
the ache the ache
the scars of never
letting go and the
gnawing, raw
pain of the open
wound you won't
stop picking, you
won't stop scratching
the ache of it the
ache can't forget
can't distract
doesn't stop doesn't
stop doesn't
stop

and the words
whispered over and
over again, the scream
the cry the bang the
whimper

i'm sorry.

I'm just a little mess
in a pretty black dress.
you used to like that
about me, loved me once
until the candles were
puddles of wax on the
floor and I was too
burnt out to light you up
anymore.