You had winter in your veins and at one point in time I lived for your frigid temperatures.
I spent most of my childhood sinking in the quicksand just trying to follow in your footsteps.
I became a martyr, bidding away my innocence all in exchange for a swig from your half-empty bottle.
My toes are twisted to the past, curled into figure eight knots- like the ones you left in my stomach with your silver tongue.
I find myself summoning old memories in black and white reruns, even though I’ve played the film over a million times.
I know how it ends. Yet, I keep watching like a deer in headlights because I long for the familiarity even though it makes me sick.
Till I’m dry heaving on fermented timeframes riddled with Xanax pills and vodka breath; the smell emitting from the passenger seat filling my body with your intoxicated screams.
I got drunk off your promises for better days, I sipped from your cup of sweet nothings. As if your illusive reality could quench my thirst.
I spent four long years tediously scrubbing red flags- convinced they were once pure white.
I used to wake from an alcohol induced sleep and burn sage in every corner, just trying to cleanse my safe space.
I tried to rebirth your adolescence but it was already decomposing in Earth’s womb.
I wish we didn’t share DNA, I wish you never touched me at all, because my body has permanent bruises embedded deep within places even I cannot reach.
I’m slowly distinguishing the pronunciation of comfort, and it doesn’t sound like your name.
All you ever did was visit. You never stayed. My comfort was a home you inconsistently inhabited whenever you felt weak. But you never cared enough to renew the lease. You let me sit, fully furnished with your bad intentions; all the weight you were tired of carrying was unloaded onto me. I reached my full capacity long ago but you were blind to the baggage bursting at the seams.
I would rip out my lungs if it meant quieting my screams that keep you from sleep.
I’ll bite my tongue because I know to you, my words mean nothing.
I can’t keep rescuing, reckless you.
When I walked away from you, I left behind a whole universe filled with emotional highs and lows.
The day I cut you off is the same day my feet catapulted before me and I realized I had to pick myself up because you were never going to do it for me.
You have to realize life doesn’t supply you with a first aid kit- and when bad things happen you determine if it breaks or bends you.
I wonder why it is you never cared to pick up the phone for me, but you never hesitate to answer those crank calls.
I guess you love being high more than the firm grounding I put you on time and time again.
You always found comfort in the chaos but I never stopped striving for serenity. And I guess that’s the difference between you and me.