💌

to go back to.

the house by the lake

would have sank anyways;

it is something

only my youth can touch.

licking my tears,

my mind filling,

with images i do not need.

maybe this is a wake up call.

i drowned in that lake,

and still

emerged.

i never forgot how the air filled

my lungs.

it never hurt,

i just wanted to feel it all.

the house is sold and gone.

fifteen years later,

i hold my breath

under the water in the bathtub.

I’m still nineteen years old,

and my mother is laughing at me

for admitting i want to kill myself.

Resentment builds after months and

years,

I would feel better if she died tomorrow,

or maybe right now.

I have buried myself below the floorboards

of our house,

so my mother can’t see my facial expressions when she tells me

that there is someone doing better

than me.

My reflection in the mirror

will always be vague,

my mother only sees herself.

I do not know who I am,

and she does not know

should have buried me,

it didn’t.

I swallowed my words

with their sharp edges,

and cut my throat.

Rushes of crimson emotion

bleed through