Blood
Your words cut like knives
you don’t see
the deep wounds they make
cutting so deep
dark blood flows down
dripping on the white tiles
yet you ignore it
as it stains my skin.
It feels like a million splinters
digging so deep
I want to scream
with anger
and sadness
and pain
until my throat gives, cut in half,
bloody and torn as I cry out.
It feels like little needles
tearing into my eyes,
chains digging scars
into my already bloody hands.
Blood is everywhere
but I can’t scream
your silent hand is choking me
and I’m drowning in a pool of my own blood.
Sweat
It isn’t that kind of sweat.
Not the kind where her feet
slam on the pavement,
arms pumping with such force
that you would think
she was running away.
It isn’t that kind of sweat.
Not the kind where her fist
slams into the bag,
knuckles bruising with such force
that you would think
she was fighting something inside her.
It was that kind of sweat.
The kind where your body
is already an empty shell,
your eyes blank, soul missing,
and you have been walking
along the same beaten and desolate path,
the sun shining on and on,
as if some joke.
As if it was meant
to make you sweat.
To remind you that you were alive, and still, just barely, human.
Tears
Biting your tongue,
tearing at the fragile skin on your lip
feels different,
feels good.
It is a distraction
from the hole in your heart.
You can feel it missing,
a piece of you
gone forever.
Tears spill on the edge
as you realize it can never come back.
Your body physically aches for it back,
and sometimes you
cannot breath
because you feel so numb.
Sometimes, it is hard to pretend,
because something broke in you
a long time ago.
Tears spill on the edge
as you realize it can never come back.
You can never be whole again.
You make yourself bleed and cry,
because you are desperate.
You think you can get
the feeling out somehow.
Tears spill on the edge as you realize you will never escape it.
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