i even wrote poems about you. but it still didnt stop you from dismembering me. it didnt stop you from tearing apart every single one of my limbs until i was just left with what was left of the bitterness of m heart. alone. fragile. nothing to protect it but the thin tissue you tore through with your bare fucking hands. i wrote about how your skin was olive, not tan, freckled, without a flaw. i wrote about your lips and how they moved, how they pursed. "babe." i wrote about your eyes and how much they shone like the light of a thousand fucking suns were seeping through your retinas and all eyes were on me. werent they? i wrote about your fingertips and the palms of your hands and that they were calloused but when you touched me it felt like the weight of the world was lifted and that nothing could ever harm me. i wrote about how i couldnt sleep without hearing your voice. youd call me at 3 am and tell me hello, then youd snore and that was enough. i wrote about the peace i felt within myself knowing you were there, always. and the love you filled my body with was excruciating. i never thought i would write about the death of us. i never thought i'd write about the pain you inflicted, the deep tissue scars, the wounds, the abrasions. i never thought i would have to write your name in a negative light. joshua. i never would have imagined the lips that captivated me were capable of the most shattering words, the most hurtful lies. your eyes turned to black, i didnt see the sun, i saw darkness. i saw regret and sorrow, but youll never get my forgiveness. the hands that once guarded me from any evil turned into just that and the bruises your fingertips left are numb. i never thought id hate the sound of you. the windchime songs are now alarming bells, a rapid buzzing, an awful blare. my love for you was plentiful, wholesome, faithful. i cant seem to understand just where i went wrong. did i love too hard? did i not fulfill your needs? what reason did i give for you to look elsewhere? why was i an option? i am not an option. im not a secondhand lover. im not someone who is available when you are. i am not someone you can use to fill up your time. you told me you were in love with me. you said your heart was full of me, and that you would take such good care mine. joshua. i never thought id say your name and feel like this. i never thought id say your name out of disgust, out of disbelief. joshua.
im still fucking writing poems about you.
