destruction

I'm not sorry.

“life goes on”

he whispers to me,

his fingertips kissing intricate patterns along the expanse of my back,

he says it like

it’s the truest of truths,

ones that cannot, and will not be tested,

perched high on his horse with an ocean of distance between us

he says it like,

he’s not tearing apart my battered skin,

meticulously,

from my shattered ribcage,

peeling back the edges and bludgeoning my very core

his mouth hugs his words like it’s something to be proud of,

like life goes on and that in itself is beautiful

and it is,

life does not cease and it is beautiful,

like the way the leaves change colors,

from green to yellow to orange to brown,

and how they will continue to do so,

even when there is no longer someone there to watch them

life is beautiful

in the way that a florida sunset still has the ability to steal

my breath from my throat

without making me feel like I'm suffocating

but that is not the point

he never gets what

the point is supposed to be,

like a child who doesn’t understand why

the world is not waiting at his fingers,

or why the cereal box is kept on top of the fridge

so he doesn’t over eat

he doesn’t understand that it does not diminish my demons,

that his words do not make the scratching along the edges of my skull stop,

it doesn't make the vice around my heart loosen,

so my blood doesn't feel like syrup any longer

nor does it make me love him any more for making me feel

completely helpless

and,

he doesn’t understand,

why i can barely hold myself together sometimes,

on the mornings when breath does not come naturally,

when the air is sucked out of the room,

and my hands quake with barely restrained anxiety

he does not understand

that i am not a problem to be fixed,

but a salvation to be supported,

for i need to believe in me, too

he will never be able to save me,

he will never be able to fix me

he will never be able to love me

he will never be able to do those things

before i can do them for myself

he does not understand

why i push him away when he gets too close

when i’m trying to fall asleep

and his arms feel like the most confining trap,

tying me to the bed,

the most vivid kind of paralysis

he presses kisses to my neck, like he is trying

to erase what my insecurities have done to me

how they have destroyed every good part of me,

and have left the tattered, torn pieces

out to dry

he tries to pick up the pieces, to stick them back together, again,

"to make me whole once more" he murmurs,

but they are already glued to my fingertips.

and I will never let them go,

as I am the one who needs them the most.

he does not love me

because he does not understand

that i am my own worst enemy

before i am anything of his

Reviews

[Kai Rollins]

You cannot love without loving yourself...
How truthful. The depth and emotion were really something to be proud of,
Portrayed so clearly and accurately from line to line

He does not love me
Because he does not understand

How could he...the mere readers of this have yet to grasp it all,
Brilliant

[A. Amos]

Deep and while reading you one can sense about not having understanding in relationship and later effects, meaningful write and thank you for inviting deep on your mind:)

[angelica]

wow, i don't know if you were going for what i am about to say but, that was beautiful i felt that you were admitting that you had faults and insecurities and he doesn't want you too have them. but they are a part of you what holds you together that no matter how hard you try they are bonded to your rib cage and every part of your being but it does not bother you. in fact you want them. but tell me if i am wrong