Looking into myself,
I can't pinpoint that
crushing, confusing, messy
mixture of feelings I have for you.

I would have sworn a week ago
that I hate everything about you,
but now dreaming back
I remember how tender your love was.

I don't know why
you loved me like that
and no one else,
or why you tortured other souls
to have me,
or why maybe,
you destroyed yourself,
but I do know
that I can't rest
without understanding you.

These doors are shut,
can't you see that?

I've got half a mind to let you hear
my screaming rattled insides,
but I know better.

I know better than to subject you
to the ever compressing, binding,
and oppressive part of my existence
just so you can play pretend
with who you think I am.

Stop acting as though one of you can
hold a key to the door,
taunt my demons out to prowl,
and make love to the idea of me;
you are no knights in shining armor,
and surely, you can see
I'm not open to visitors.

Every time I think of you,
I hear his name instead
and it’s almost as if
every abuser is the same,
and it wouldn’t matter whose name
I were to speak out to the world
because both deal the same damage.

My whole body feels weak,
and I can’t help but imagine
this would have been the perfect time
for you to use me,
if you hadn’t already.

These weighed down bundles
of my tumbled dried insides
collapse into heavy stacks of cotton
linen sheets, tangled;
memories of cold pressed touches
and warm suds wash over me,
while my seams come undone
in my hands.

Why do you think these threads
can be untangled?
I've looked at your patchwork heart
and oh, how I wish mine could be mended like that,
but I hope you can understand,
I've broken many needles in the process
and I'm not sure I can afford to start again.

Yeah I’m a bit insane
A bit off line
Walking a line
Trying to keep steady and feet heavy
But **** you make it hard to understand
I’m not choosing
So if you make me, then you’ll lose
Not some **** “duck,duck, goose”
Is it too much to ask or to beg?
Actually I got another better way to say
I’ll work and I’ll fight for everything I want and can’t have
To not live, to aim, to please
I will aim to cease
Any name whom shall try to cut me
Go ahead, take a blow at me
See my feet still heavy?
No, actually I love me
Just like you
You look in the mirror who else you gonna run to
Too many demons you gravitate to?
Okay now jump the tracks, I want my life back.
“F*k” you, where the love at?
©Jessica Stull

I really hate it when I can't cry
Or when I feel like crap
And I can't complain about it
I really hate this feeling
Of not feeling.
I want to scream
But why would I?
Why yell for no reason?
Why would you even try?
Can't even think of a reason to
Do anything...anymore.

Ought I be so scared
of the monsters I fell in love with?

I should know by now
that a man with such an acquired taste
for knives and playthings
could tear me in half.

Their desires to be like me, of me,
torments me as much as the thought
of being like them;
and oh, how my false confidence
destroys me in the end,
pretending I could never fear them.

How quaint it is to exist
inside, between, such disfigured forms
of speech and image,
but must I tremble at their voice,
must I crumble at the feet
of something so deformed?

I know if I see him, see them,
I would much like to be afraid,
and every part of my bones
will collapse into flakes and shards,
only for me to later inhale
my brokenness, with disturbed breath,
and I will feel my eyes swell with lamenting salt,
sensing I'm letting my weakness show.

I've never wanted to run away
as much as I've wanted to run away from him,
from them,
from the absolute tormenting weight of them,
their brown eyes, their brown hair,
their terrible smiles,
they've always claimed to want me
and now I fear they might come
to take me, just like they always said they would.