It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the sound of glass shattering and my mom drunkenly stumbling into my room face dripping crimson leaving the floor a vast sea of blood and it’s the nasty names falling from my father mouth and tears falling from my mothers eyes and the bruises littering her body and the blood, so much fucking blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the time my older sisters boyfriend broke up with her and she didn’t leave her room for six days because getting out of bed was just too much, she nearly went to the hospital on day six, I think he took her will to live with him when he left her.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the week my best friend spent at the mental hospital because her girlfriend fucked her ex. They think she was trying to end her life but I think she was trying to fill the hole in her heart with a bottle of prescription pills, I spent the next month watching her break her teeth on cheap liquor bottles and turning her body into a canvas with a twist, you see the paint was red and the canvas was her wrist.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that when the first boy I fell in love with told me he never loved me I chased two bottles of pills with some liquor and spent the night throwing up everything inside me but my love for him, a week later the “nice” lady at the mental hospital asked me why I wanted to die, I told her I didn’t want to die at all I just wanted to feel something other than the pain of him leaving.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that time I got a call from the ICU because my cousin was in a coma, the doctors told me they had to shock his heart to bring him back, when he was finally stable and could have visitors he told me she left him so he tied off his arm and shoved a needle into his veins because somehow that hurt less than the knife she shoved in his back when she left him.
It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that I do…
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