shots

Shots.... single consecutive shots... like an execution to my blood stream. Placed against a wall of false hopes and convicted by the mistakes my tongue makes when drinking your poison. I swallow you like I've been trapped in the desert for days. You burn my esophagus with your lies and you sit at the pit of my stomach like all your broken butterflies and you build my body up like the pedestal I placed you on. Built with the ivory of the skeletons in your closet. Did you mean to make me love you.... did you mean to structure a tourniquet of barbed wire around my heart? I often stumble into your cold grasp.... I stagger into the frozen soul you reflect from your eyes I collapse into the shards of your promises. Questions form at the end of the bottle... like a message sent out to sea with no return. I am ship wrecked in your flawless beauty. Abandoned in your plagiarized "i love yous" ... Murdered by the fictional character you ripped from the pages of your fairytale. The princess evicted from her castle and the queen dethroned. We are no longer royal. We are estranged peasants drinking from the same vile of your make belief. 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741