I wish I stilled pulled at the corners of your lips

and when you cried, I didn’t dare pull at your heartstrings.

Sometimes I wonder, if I’m still the girl sitting on your bed,

with my head on your shoulder, watching How I Met Your Mother.

I’ve never seen anything as perfect as a lotus flower,

that’s just as damaged as the swamp it grows in.

But you always did flow towards me;

and whatever pain came your way,

like the time I walked in on you shooting  heroin into your veins,

or when you put out your last cigarette on your skin.

See, I never told you how much you disturbed me,

because I knew that it would all end.

Honey, I never wanted to leave you alone.

No, leaving you alone in the corner of the room,

wasn’t my intention.

But you knew,

you knew that all we strived for,

was falling through.

Baby, I just hope that you’re happy.

I hope that the edges of your lips still curl

when you see constellations in the sky.

I hope that you’re still breathing,

because the last time I talked to you, you were dying.

Dying from all the bullets embedded in your soul,

of the nights when you held my knife against your wrist.

I always put myself through hell so you wouldn’t have to,

constantly bleeding for my love that’ll never be returned.

I acted as your lifeline, your heartbeat, when you almost had none.

Spent countless days with you in the bathroom,

waiting for you to stop vomiting society’s standards.

But this, was all I could endure, all I could handle;

before I found myself crying on the floor.

Not knowing what to do.

About you or me.

I’m sorry babe,

but we are,




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