for helen

battered hands with bruised bodies,
black smudged under tired eyes.
& they scream
(what is the world coming to?)
but nobody can save you now.

i. am. so. cold.
frozen before my time,
i weep for the affairs that have
come and gone. And the fact
that i could not prevent (or
whisper ways to stop it all)
any of it.

and it just hurts more
especially when one so bold
sinks to the floor, shattered,
defeated.
wings ripped from a bloodied
body with no halo around her face.
(theystrippeditfromme)
and i hear everything so clearly,
as if it happened in my head.

for a moment, i pray she is
delivered—
because no torment is worth this.
stripped and lonely,
the alleyway looks so inviting
and i take a breath, hesitant and
deep as if i have just been born again.

but she does not turn, keeps
on walking, and i swear i can see
the tears tracing the outline of her
face. no torment is worth this, not
even the fragile looks from faces
of stone.

knives crawling alongside her shadow
speak only of the backstabbing pain
that follows her like a dog,
(& i can see it, but please don't cry
because i've felt it too.)

i just wish that in any other
circumstances, it was someone
we both hated. not the girl with
the smile and the world at her feet.

because even though desertion is punishable
by death, it would be too kind.
(far too kind for a sin so
cruel.)

so turn your backs on them,
darling,
for they know not what they do.
jesus comes in handy now
(even if we're a generation of
nonbelievers who fucked the devil
and stole the saint's crown).

and call them what you like,
my dear, throw knives at their
faces. do not fear for they will reap
what they sow, and soon they'll
be the ones on the street corners whilst
you turn a blind eye to them.

what goes around comes around
and they'll realize
(thatyourdeathwasnoaccident)
soon they'll learn,
soon they'll learn.

author's notes : because i know what it feels like. we're here for you, even if they're not. don't ever forget that.