Once upon a time peroxide stained my fingertips as I pressed them to your peppermint lips and savoured every moment you weren't destroying me, like camp-fire melted marshmallows on my tongue. I always wished the wind would change so we could have stayed like that for as long as my porcelain heart could beat.
It seems like forever ago when you read my letter and said it made you cry because I looked so young and afraid, you didn't want to break me with your stone cold kisses. I smiled a candyfloss smile and told you I was unbreakable. For I was untouched back then and thought it ridiculous that one person was able of such damage.
In return you wrote a song for me, and it felt like I was drinking your broken heart with every chord and word that tumbled out those orbit-built lips like black-and-blue waterfalls.
a n di n t h a t m o m e n t
I exploded into a kaleidoscope of butterflies for you were the first boy to ever paint me beautiful. You looked at me fierce and defiant scooping the pieces of me back together with your strong hand strokes and my first tastes of vodka. I believed your words like holy water as they coiled tight around me like patchwork promises.
But that moonlit boy was a fairy tale. A Damien-rice implant spiked with intentions as bitter as asphalt, and a greedy mouth aching to suck me out hollow.
you set alight to my vulnerability watching me bubble and boil down as you gripped onto my wrists puppet-like squeezing me into shapes that made my spine click, mangling me onto you, carving out my lungs so my white-hot screams rang deaf against your pleasure. Your kisses felt like stinging nettles against my swollen flesh, as you rasped for more. But instead of hate I was petrified of the monster my prince charmed-me had turned out to be.
And when you force-fed me your love potion tales of my beauty, your poisonous breath fell soft -like satin- against my cheek dissolving me into a mannequin (my obedient mouth cement-shut-silent). I've never felt so distorted, so constricted, like you'd brought me. it was you who dressed me up in eating disorders to try and perfect myself, for I thought perfect people were strong enough to say no. but turns out I was just chipping away at my own time bomb for self-destruction and when the bathroom scales reached 6 and a half stone my blood-shot eyes brimmed both delirious and frightened in one dizzy blend of realisation.
even when I finally (like happy-ending-girl) found the spectacular threads of courage to hang up on you, I still watched out for your cigarette-smile and decaying eyes, like a rabbit and the fox. I despised anything your sour-teeth had bitten into, flinching from the gleaming salvia still left behind -like slug-trails splitting up my life. - And in the end my face grew rusty from the tears.
And everybody said I was fine, like they could just decide. and when they found my bulimic-rings shining on my fingers they never put two-and-you together, they just jammed their disapproving looks into the holes you'd already made, and devoured the very last gossamer strands stringing me together with their 'nasty words and even nastier meanings.'
back in those bleak winter months ( just before my birthday) I felt as brittle as spider webs and snakeskin, a rotting apple girl , mortified at the maggots other people could pack me with. and it was only the opening chapter, the first domino: so I never had time to remove all the stain's zigzagging up and down my pasty body, instead I just clumsily stitched them up with off-white smiles and too-much blusher. My tears fall like April showers to relive it all. But I've grown back and up enough now to know I have to otherwise like a cancer cell biding its time it'll just eat me up inside out.
And the -strange- thing is: instead of roses, you brought me forget-me-notts- grinning like you knew something I didn't. It wasn't until the other day when I found the jam-jar I put them in that I realised it was because even then you knew what you were going to do. You knew I'd never be able to forget you.
b u t y o u w e r e w r o n g.
Ican't even remember your face. It's what you did that sticks to me, not you
and it never will be.