|anything but words
Author: dress her up in fairytales PM
because there is nothing left [of me].Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Drama - Words: 408 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 12-18-06 - Status: Complete - id: 2292512
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
anything but words
i'm not asking for anything but words from your lips
(and it's so much better than dripping blood).
every time i hear your voice, my heard turns in your direction.
and i can't still feel your eyes upon my body, searching for an answer,
stripping me of my s(k)in, urging the scars to b r e a k open and bleed (again).
you have this way of making my heart beat faster even though
(i swear) i don't love you. my heart should be faster around him.
(and i'm a bit surprised that my heart has kept it's composure after all the times
you've been so near because i swear it has been b r o k e n so many times before.)
when she mentioned you, i remembered what it was like to choke.
i found myself on the bathroom floor with the taste of vomit in my mouth.
because all these words i carved into my skin are the words i don't deserve,
spoken from trembling lips (as they were carved) of someone who is so afraid
to be who she was, knowing that she could never go back
but if only the scars would d i s a p p e a r.
and girl, you bring me to my knees, shaking uncontrollably,
scratching at the scars, and screaming, screaming, screaming,
why can't you understand? every day i receive nothing is another day
i should be dead (from lack of blood and feeling).
i buried your apathy (and my dreams) under a tree,
knowing things could be so much better (without scars).
and i would b r e a k open skin (and old scars) again if you ever noticed me
and the way i feel (although i'm already in the corner, bleeding away the filth
that penetrates me, digging itself deeper until there is nothing left of me).
i'm waiting for the day that i can stop wearing long sleeves on warm days
just to hide my scars (because i swear everyone notices them and not me).
(i had to use carpet cleaner to remove (my) blood from the carpet
so my mother wouldn't ask me what the stain was. because then
she would put me in the last place i would ever want to be (again):
behind white walls with another stranger who could never understand.)