It begins with your laughter:
a light, ecstatic feeling in my chest,
an answer to a question I never asked,
and me, a clock slowly falling behind,
forever chasing the time it can never quite catch.
Then comes the guilt when you speak my name.
A thumb hovering over these text messages,
that I never sent because they will hurt you,
-- but I'm hurting, too,
when you blame me for the oxygen that I steal,
for all these wounds that just won't heal.
Condemning the marks these nails left in my hand,
but let's not forget that you were the one that put them there.
Preaching this toxicity of the heart like you're the victim,
while you're burning me at the stakes.
My bones taking forever to burn;
My ashes forever caught in your lungs,
beneath the lips that spoke these words,
that taught me how to burn in the first place.
It ends with the memory
of someone I once knew.
An imprint, forever on my heart.
The dirt that's never coming off.