Screaming and pushing; the recurring trauma is forced to the forefront while murky waters drift carelessly on by. I know there is a side of me you much prefer, but I dulled that side with sickening shot after shot. Forcing myself into harms way until we end up sitting in sterile silence on plastic chairs. Awaiting for the news we’ve all been expecting. I’m sick, and I have been since long before you. Intoxicated scratches appear on my skin like memories from every place I have ever been and blackened bruises develop.
Clinging onto you that night I felt love. Not a shy or timid love one but a violent and aggressive love that forces itself to be felt. It tore through you like a switch blade and I keep that wound open every time I regress.
