to the monsters under my bed//
i see all of you. in this distorted pink glow, i see you. you whisper at night when i’m wrapped in blankets and my toes are cold. you say things. you creep into my mind and whisper tainted words that are not sweet nothings, but bitter everythings. i do not dream. i become my fears, shattering mirrors so i do not have to see them. i don’t have to see myself.
you are these battle scars, and the reason i am ashamed of them. you are the soft melody with harsh words and you’re on repeat. you’re fucking relentless.
when i was younger, you stayed in my bedroom and came out at night to taunt me. you’re everywhere now. your insults are the godforsaken soundtrack i’m living with.
living. what’s that mean? i sometimes wish i could carve strength from my bones, and wear it around my neck. i slide in and out of the present. no one notices, and the only relic that i bring from this time travel is an ugly one.
i remember being touched on my upper thigh/hands on my face/fear/living in the eyes of the sun/nothing. i remember nothing.
i hate you.
i hate the taste of damp salt. i miss the key to my heart being copied and handed to those who wanted to explore it. i don’t miss the house parties held there by the undeserving. the mess left. the cleaning process. attempting to heal.
some days i awoke and all of your eyes were staring into mine. it did not feel like looking at the stars. it felt like a glimpse of hell. a swear word. a sea of red.
i see all of you. but that doesn't mean that i accept you. in this distorted pink glow, i see you. and you’re not just under my bed.