without words

half of my heart whispers, "get over it, girl because she's never going to noticed you(r) bleeding."
but then i catch myself saying, "then what (/who) have all the scars been for if not for her at all?"

and this doesn't hurt.
everything inside of me is numb from the bleeding –
too confused to even come out into words that i only wish they could understand it when i say,
"it isn't that easy" because they just don't know how much you hurt me. and even so, you —
the very blue-eyed, brown-haired girl — can't (and won't) see the hurt and the pain when oh god,
i showed you the first scars (but they are nothing compared to now) and now, you can't even look at me.
i'm so unworthy of such beautiful eyes. i'm trying to convince myself that i don't love you –
i can't love you like that because such rejection would leave me bitter and even worse in the bleeding.

(and love is something that i could never have because i'm left consumed by you, your raw
silence and the fact(s) that i'm afraid to leave my security blanket that they call depression.
and i find that (my) smiles are nothing more but mere memories of who i could have been.)

i want the scars to do the talking (but stereotypes leave it to be out of the question) instead
of having to hide them. i can't remember when my wrists were clean and when it never hurt
(burned) to see you. i wish for this to be nothing more than just the past but i can't do that
when you won't acknowledge me at all. and i know you may have already forgotten but let's
stir the (worst bleeding) memories so i can let this be dead and buried.

i just can't do it without you.
i just can't let you go.
and oh god, i should.

you and i just don't know what to do. the pain blinds me but i can only move forward
(when i wish i could go back to take away the scars and save myself the hurt).
and you only leave me in silence and it speaks the loudest, screaming, repeating,
"and she never cared (for you), girl!"

but i left everything to scream the facts in your face. and i can't pretend that this is nothing
because i'm not as strong as you (especially when you've brought me to my knees too many
times to count). i'm still bleeding away all the imperfections until i shed another layer (of s(k)in)
and then maybe you'll see how much you mean(t) to me and know this is never easy when it left me
for (almost) dead in august. i found myself at a b r e a k i n g point in february when scars ran the
deepest and i bled too much for you that night (in the closet as dim light left a shadow over the scars
and i woke up the next morning with brick red dried blood through my pajama sleeves).

i don't remember what it's like to feel.
and my heart races each time i see you.
but you just don't see (me) anymore.

and i know where the gun is hiding but i don't want it to be my last resort anymore.
i want to know what freedom tastes like (again) because you leave me in (blood) chains,
shackled on my (already bleeding) wrists and ankles, reinforcing the fact that you consume me.

(i'm afraid i won't make it to may to walk across the stage.
but you'll be there with a smiling face, choking on the words you never said.)


author's note: there are no words left. there is only pain. this is raw. this is numb.