Our story has been re written
one too many times,
[so which one of us writes it now?]
What's mine is yours
and what's yours is yours.
I tell myself
I owe you nothing [ more than my life]
because without you
I'm half the girl I used to be-
half the nothing;
Funny how you said you never fall again
and here you are tumbling to the floor;
armfuls of air that suffocates your skin
and forces your lips to breathe against mine
[if you can call it that...]
Sweet scents of empty
cling to your throat--
and you can tell your friends
that you choked the living hell
out of yourself because somewhere
within you a regurgitating menace
was wrestling with your tongue and pinning
the words you could not say against your cheeks
[but I know they are not bruises,
and for once, some part of us
belongs to me.]
You didn't get it-
I wasn't surprised.
A part of you wants me again
[a part of you has already given in.]
and to think-
we didn't believe in second chances
but maybe
there's hope for a third.
My eyes do not register hope.
[Sometimes I am not even sure you're there
until the tears involuntarily start to fall.]
You're beautifully persuasive and
if there is such a thing
as me in my right state of mind
it is when I am as close as I will ever get
to accepting that I need to be over you.
Acceptance is the first step is it not?
Falling back into denial always seems to be the second...
Gold trophy winner
Bronze trophy winner
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