red curls and red wrists

It's weird to feel your chest ache,

like your heart is freezing over. 

Injected with lead,

and laced with depression 

and anxiety

that skips in fragments and repeats like a scratched CD.

You can feel it soaking through 

your veins.

Every bone,

every nerve is heavy.

It seeps through your aching stomach

and numbs your fingertips,

already deadened from

the absence of your hand pressed to her cheek. 

And there's nothing to do

But cower, dig your nails into your palm that has

'i'm sorry'

written in smudged ink,


and let it hit you.


You used to touch her hair once.

Twirling the fiery ringlets gently

around your finger 

and let them trail down her back

until your fingers found the spaces in hers.

But she pulled away 

before you could

make her whole again. 

Melt the lead in your heart.


But now is not the time to dwell

On things that were bound

to wilt and die.

Wake up, snap out of it.

Feel something.

Feel pain. 

Come on, pull yourself together.

You can do more than this.

More than this pathetic pouting.

Stop it

Melt the lead in your heart.


You could no longer cry

so you let your wrists do the talking.

You draw a pretty picture,

one that reminds you of her hair,

of her touch,

that crudely twines around your veins. 

The absence of all emotion remained in your chest.

How ironic,

that you can feel the absence of something.



Melt the lead in your heart



So you tried.

Stinging thighs

and blood dotting the carpet

was not the cure.

Neither was rejecting immediately what you ate,

or setting alight your thoughts

and inhaling them until you choked.

 

The answer was not found at the bottom of a bottle

or swallowing handfuls of pills

while you try to ignore the pain as you let your mind cloud over.


You have not found the answer

to lighten your heart

and make yourself feel again

and you may never will.

Which is okay.

But shape up, snap out of it.

Don't you dare think.

You can do more than this.

More than this pathetic drowning.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

malloryy

You ate that 

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