Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

When you fall in love with a gunshot, what you get are bullet wounds. I got more than bullet wounds from you; I got rose gardens of bruises in my heart and knife wounds across my soul. I got hips aching to be held, hips that burned at your acid touch. I got promises filled with sawdust and ash.  I got kisses that drugged me and caught me up in your sweetness, only to be dropped again when I did something “wrong”. Because not texting back fast enough was “wrong”. Because fighting back was “wrong”. Because holding onto my identity was “wrong”

When you fall in love with steel blue eyes you never see the granite hidden underneath. So I dove head first into the quarry of your mind, I hit the bottom, cracked my skull and out bled poetry, ragged and rough. Out bled pain like I’d never felt. Out bled every inch of me, desperate to be put back together. Instead you called me whore, and made me feel worthless. Instead you tore me further apart, and laughed at the mess you made

When you fall in love with an abuser, you learn a lot of things. You learn when you are strong, and when you are weak. You learn how to hide the pain from everyone else, how to turn your tears into laughter so bright you almost believe it yourself.  You learn that the only person you can trust is yourself, and even their judgement is off some days. You learn that not all fairy tales end happily. You learn that sometimes abuse is its own kind of brokenness, its own call for help. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. 

And now, four years later, here you come again. And once more, you’re asking me heal you. I wanted to hold my tongue like a dagger to your throat. Instead, I am the needle sewing your broken pieces back together. I wanted to be the storm that broke you, the hurricane you drowned in. Instead I am the gentle showers washing away your pain. I was not meant to heal you, so why do you come to me broken and bloody, in need of all this gentleness? You do not deserve my gentleness. You deserve my storms, my hurricanes, my wildfires. So why do I keep bringing you back to life, just to watch you leave again?