like a god, no ending and no beginning existed with him. ominous; a separated beauty. when he comes to visit me i am less awake. allowing the collapse of my better judgement. politely, i step out of my body; its his problem to occupy now. in the darkness of night he glides his vices across lifeless limbs. the mutilation of this body is humbling. she deserves it. carefully he packs the shell with sand.
i beg him to stay. he smiles, refuses, closes the door kindly. like a dammed soul dragged to hell im forced to return to the corpse. the sand thickens like cement. walking is tiresome. exhaust swallows me. i try to call out for help, instead droplets of grain spew from my lips. words no longer have meaning. my soul is suffocating in, my brain is drowning in, my hope is evading in these weightless bits of erosion. my only solace is the thought of his return. loneliness evades me, his presence appears in every infamous down fall i find myself existing in.
im not sure where we are going anymore. he bathes me until the screams bellowing out of my core cease. swaddles me in forgiveness. makes me feel able. petrified of my reality without him, i follow him blindly into the darkness. his whispers are rich, comforting, wholesome. “jump.” its agonizing telling him no. my rationals screams are drowned out by his thoughts echoing inside me. my want to answer her calls is nothing compared to my need to please him. i give up.
as i fall a lifetime of malpractices burrow through my skull. in each of them, i sit alone. its amazing how eroded the mind becomes when it goes mad.
my body is not a temple.
its a prison.
a hallowed out sanctuary. no one worships here. hatred. jealousy. loneliness. despair. nestled between the bars. all the while hope remains wrongly shackled in a cell of her own. she dreams in black and white. swallowed by the layout of her brilliant escape. refusing to let go of the ideology that she is bigger than this institution. her stories of appeals and tunnels and maps grow fainter as the years pass. time after time, the guards beat her with failure. strip her dignity. laugh at her perseverance. broken. its been three days since her cell was vacated. i dont know what to do without her.
its a shelter.
occupied by the lonely, the dirty, the desperate. i welcome them inside; tormented by the obviousness in their eyes that they would rather be anywhere but here. misery dances along the halls stained by a lifetime of regret. i watch in silence as methamphetamine rots a brittle man from the inside out. i watch in silence as undernourishment devours the once pink faced infant. i watch in silence while a brown eyed beauty finds comfort in tearing at her own flesh. they crowd my soul. begging, pleading, needing for me to save them. i cant.
its a tomb.
surrounded by the souls of the brilliant. i watch in envy as loyal patrons decorate their graves with colors of love, gratefulness, appreciation. awaiting my judgement, i maliciously calculate the severity of a every mistake that i have ever made throughout the course of my time. picking apart a life time of interactions in an attempt to justify them. i cant. its been three years since i accepted that no one is coming for me. i never once questioned why. the silence of rotting alone is too much to bare. every night i wish that my body was a temple.
so that i could burn it to the fucking ground.
it tasted sweet. his eyes so engulfed in my entirety that i believed the love we were making was wholesome. innocent. like a child does a watermelon on warm summer day he devoured my soul. sticky juices staining the flushed cheeks of a boy in need of validation. he bathes me in appreciation for the generations of alleles that have melted together to create the person i am. smothered in his aura, i find a home. i feel whole again.
he says that i deserve it.
i allow myself to change. i grow inside another while another grows inside me. i bite his tongue, i swallow my pride, i justify his anger. i force my rationality to forgive him. in fits of rage he rids our home of my presence. every time we make love he carves my secrets into my skin. humbled. i steady his hands. i have always believed that nobody can hate me more than i hate myself. my ideology is questioned as he tears into my flesh.
i think that i deserve it.
emptiness builds a home inside me. my mind is swallowed by humiliation for the person that i have become. whore. i refuse to recognize the girl who looks back at me. desperate. i just want to feel something besides this emptiness, i cannot stop myself from wanting to be free from this shell. obese. hot water dances across my flesh; your scent lingers. who the fuck wins? i dont want to be me anymore. i dont want to be me anymore. i dont want to be me anymore i
the flowers are dead.
the flowers died along with your relationship. they withered and they crumbled as his voice grew distant and his patience grew thin. he no longer wants you. the flowers no longer want to live.
the daises were white. free. oblivious to beauty they brought to the world. your love was red. powerful. as passionate as two sweaty teenagers fumbling around in the back seat of a car for the first time. when simply your thoughts of each other were strong enough to fog up the windows. your promises rolling off his tongue, his hands grasped the back of your head, your hearts beating in unity: because your souls merged into one. he became apart of you. you needed him to be stable, the way flowers need soil to grow. while you were connected to someone permanently you’ve never felt more free; more oblivious to the world around you. you have never felt more like the daises.
the flowers did not die peacefully. they withered slowly and painfully. their stems sunk in with your cheeks, they lost their shine like he lost the light in his eyes when someone said your name, the petals could no longer hold on in the breeze of the slamming doors or you running away from each other problems. the soil dried up and all the tears you shed over him couldn’t return it to its rich state. you stopped appreciating the daises, you stopped asking him about his day, he stopped telling you good morning. as the daisies went grey your love went black. the damage was irreparable. the color was lost.
as the flowers grew weaker you attempted to save them. your tried to dig them up and replant them, you begged him to come lay in your bed and forget about the fighting. forget about the other girl. you tried to talk the flowers into holding on, you tried to remind him what he first saw in you. but you had ditched the soil that you grew together in, in a final attempt to save the wreckage. he was already gone and the flowers could not reestablish their roots.
how did you let something as simple and brilliant as love slip through your fingers? how did you manage to ruin the only person strong enough to attempt to rebuild the ruins that have been collecting dust inside you? how did you run off the sunshine bringing you the nutrients you needed to grow? why didn’t you try to water his love before it was too late? why are you still attempting to dig up your past lover? when will you understand that no matter how hard you try, his seeds will no longer grow for you? that his seeds are no longer yours to plant?
i dont know. i just know the flowers are dead.