Ammo

I used to fall asleep to the warm sweet sound of your guitar but now every time I hear a string,

it strikes a chord in me,

And instead of going to sleep, I go into anxiety attacks.

My bitter reminiscents eating away at every good and bright thing I used to block out your memory

Like a wall of hundreds of tiny victories, all shot down by your intimidating presence barrelling towards them

And every, single, time,

It feels like I'm being shot in the chest

With thoughts of you rippling through every inch of my body.

I loaded the gun, you swore to protect me with, full of bullets made of trust.

A trust, mind you, that took every ounce of courage my already beaten body could handle

And yet, you’d point it back at me.

And the moment I let my guard down thats when you decided to shoot.

It’s almost as if you were aiming at the one thing you knew could destroy me from the inside out.

I would never tell you this but, your aim was almost deadly

And yet somehow, 

My wounds began to heal in ways I never thought possible

And it seems that we both discovered that you could easily shoot me down, 

but that it takes more than my own ammo to keep me there.