“Please, I am drowning. I am suffocating. I am fading. This is my plea for help that breezes on your skin ever so silently. There is only darkness. There is nothing. No one. You tell me you’re there, but I can’t see you. You tell me you’re there to listen, but there is no ear. You tell me you are going to stay, but I see you leaving. Is it because it is too much for you?
You’re going through nothing. You’re life is perfect. You’re going to be fine. It doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels heavy. Heavy on the mind and heart. Scarring and wounding. Re-wounding and never healing. It’s not nothing. It is more than something. And maybe it would be fine if you .

I’ve always been one to enjoy the burn
But this
This is a new level
Of salt in the wound

You are cold to the touch
Leaving blisters
Where you grab my wrist
And pin me down

The longer you stay
The longer I scream
Until the pain is numb
And I do not feel enough
To need you to leave

You burn me anyway

My heart is blue my soul black and bruised and spirit marred with weeping wounds crying red tears flying and my soul is burned tender to the touch and every gentle brush of finger tips enough to make me hurtle headlong into Dante’s circles spinning shouts lost in darkness singing voiceless each remark amiss agony at the thought of each kiss as long gone as sweet Beatrice and alas darling catalyst no scar will show upon my skin for you to know where I have been these long dark nights engulfed in flame while freezing chills rend my being lame with no hope of leaps and strides drowning beneath the rising tide of feeble attempts to break the chain that my youth I might regain and with it your loving embrace and soothing tone and starry gaze but yet the current drags me away and as I wake to shafts of day It is so that I find to my dismay that beside myself you still lay and yet deep inside my mind is frayed

I didn’t hide it this time
I didn’t bundle up my mess
I didn’t  disguise it in cloth
I did leave it there
Open in the trash for people to see
Knowing the twisted necks and judging faces that will follow  
I did acknowledge how women it is to be ashamed
But I remind myself
not all blood comes from wounds

I’ve been wondering,
Feeling,
Being trodden by you.
You kick me
When I’m down.
You slit
My throat
But patch the wound.
The symphony of scars
On my skin
Tissue,
Is a gift from your arsenal.

As I lie bleeding,
Half awake
On the floor,
You whisper
Lies in my ears
And tell me to disappear.
You turn dreams into nightmares,
Haunt my daily waking.
I push you away
But somehow you’re closer then.

You’re a mind game encased in my skull.
Between the lines, you don’t hold back,
Telling me truths as harsh as you can.
I believe every word injected into my veins
As the paragraphs line up.

I believe you, doubting me.