To say that I am

Broken

Would imply that there is
Something left
To fix.

And pain is nothing really.
Nobody feels it except for you.
Therefore it can't possibly exist
Right?

I'm so confused.
There's a gun to my head
And it leaves kiss-shaped indents
And I'm bruised black and blue.

In a coma.
Or something like that.

You were the death of me
I
Have nothing left.
I see a lover with his bonita and I suffer  
With regret
Because
Because of reasons I can't explain.

How easily you kiss me,

Like a plaster:
Lay it on.
If you mess things up again, there's more where that came from.
It's a small comfort for a short time
But when you take it away,
It hurts.

And sometimes, it takes part of me with it too.

If you were fire.
you would ignite from the tip of a cigarette,
your blaze would dance and flicker,
drawing my lips in.
I would inhale every single bit of your addictive being,
you would fill my lungs with thick, deadly smoke,
enough to make me sick.
I would exhale quickly,
blowing the smoke screen that is your lies,
back into the world for a true addict to find.
because smoking you would be a hobby,
not something I'd be truly invested in
right?  
I would cough and gag
promising my self to never come back to the poison that is you.
but my eyes would always wander and catch a glimpse of you, the fire..
dancing..
flickering...
and regrettably, I would inhale once again.
The funniest part is you're not fire, nor a cigarette,
you're a human being.
Yet you're still more beautiful, addictive and toxic then that flame will ever be, and just like the cigarette I always end up coming back for more. Always inhaling more then my flimsy lungs can hold.

a month ago, i got in a car accident that totaled my car.
i was making a left turn at a stoplight
and the driver of an suv was paying no attention to her red light.
she barreled into the front end of my car at full speed before i even saw her coming,
and then everything was shattered glass and metal colliding and screeching tires
and suddenly my airbags were puffed out like sinister clouds and my engine sounded like a death rattle.
when i opened the door to get out, the hinges grated like a scream.

but i wasn’t hurt.
i cried for six hours that day but i went to school the next one.
everything was fine.

it's just that since then, everything in my life resembles a car crash.

i smelled burning for weeks.
i still blink and see spiderweb patterns of broken glass.
i cried for two hours when i realized i lost the cd i made
just so i could listen to my favorite songs in the car.
when i hear the song that was playing, i have to turn it off.

my father picked up the shrapnel still on the street a week later
and gave me my charred, crumpled, unreadable gravestone of a front license plate.
he straightened it out and put it on my new car when we got it.

i broke up with my boyfriend three weeks ago
and as i left i heard sirens from inside his house.
the day after that, i was talking to another boy
and his promises sounded like ambulances with no paramedics on board.

last week there was a fatal car accident half a mile from my house
and i couldn't breathe for the rest of the day after i heard.

i have to turn left at the stoplight where my own accident happened every day
and when i turn i clench my fists around the steering wheel
like it wants to tear itself out of my hands and maybe it does.

i still check left and right and left and right during turns
even when someone else is driving.

call all of this a reaction to trauma,
but honestly i don't know what's wrong with me.

all i know is i cried with frustration, immature, pathetic,
when my mother and my father couldn't find a new car.
all i know is i grieved for my ford focus
like it was my only friend in the world.
all i know is i keep talking about this accident
even though i’m even getting annoyed by myself
and my fingers on the keyboard sound just like the policeman's as he wrote up the report
as i perched on a plastic backseat, shaking, face covered with tear tracks,
waiting, alone, for my father to arrive so i didn't have to be an adult,
waiting, alone, for an explanation of why this happened to me.

all i know is everything in my life resembles a car crash,
and there are sirens in the distance,
and i'm still waiting for the smoke to clear.