Vodka Pizza

We used to get drunk around town.

Take what we could from our parents, put it in a water bottle.

Sometimes multiple waterbottles;

There were 3 of us, after all.

We would down them, while laughing off pain from the week.

Being talked down to by everyone around us, just for being ourselves;

Just for trying to be happy with ourselves.

We would pass the bottles around, each making silly faces at how harsh some swigs could be.

One night in particular, I remember we had vodka.

A few different ones, but each one just as harsh as the next.

We went for pizza after a while, realizing none of us had eaten that day.

Why? Because we all hated ourselves.

We didn’t let ourselves have food often.

We didn’t think we deserved it.
We went, we sat down.

We talked about life and more pain.

And we cried, for we realized how similar we all were that night.
We all were constantly fighting off monsters.

Real, and in our head.

Some in the mirror, some in our ears;

Telling us we were never good enough..

Telling us to kill ourselves.

4 years

I wish I knew why you cut me off.

Why all of a sudden, I wasn’t worth responding to anymore.

And why I’m still not.

Why I can try and reach out, apologize blindly for whatever may have harmed you…

But, nothing.

How I can reach out to tell you that a song came on, and made me think of you singing it to me once when I cried for hours…

There was a time where you would cry for me, with me.

A time when you would do anything for me, as I would still do for you.

Where did that go?

Why did you go?

I’ve been wondering, in taunting little fragments of myself that never let me sleep at night…

Having dreams where I look for you.

And, if I ever find you, you miss me too.

Probably just because I want you to.

Probably just because that is comforting, when you aren’t really here.

It’s been 4 years, going on 5.

And I hold onto the one thing you said to me, in a store, in passing.

“I don’t hate you. Get that idea out of your head.”

But, if you don’t….

How come it’s been 4 years?

Cards

Do you remember that drinking game we played?

In the house of an old “friend” of mine from school…

You brought me there, I don’t know why you brought me there….

But you did, and the whole time you were just toying with me from across the room.
You had someone; she was with us, she was my friend.

I thought she was kind, later found out otherwise.

You kissed her, hard and long; but you opened your eyes and stared at me from across that circle.

How didn’t she see you?

How did no one else see you do that?
You were clever; too good at being bad, awful..

Always acting as if you were a gentleman.

Always playing off the idea that you are great,  and kind.

That your only flaw is your crippling depression.

But there is so much more than that.
Your flaw is how much you take from others, but can never give back.

You take until you break whoever lets you in…
And that card game. Just like that game, where we all sat in a circle;

Drinks in hand, and forced laughter coming from me.

Did you think I kept losing because I didn’t know how to play, or did you realize I just always wanted to be numb around you?
Maybe my absence makes that clear now;

I never liked your game.

Pained

The familiar feeling is setting in

The one where I hear your lies for what they are,

But you tell me I am wrong.
My gut feels tangled, barbed wire around emotions.

You laugh it off, I deserve it in your head.
I only wish you could stop.

See the feelings you bring out in me.
I wish you could see how much my heart sinks,

Knowing you always leave..
I wish you could see how I bleed internally,

My body, trying to get out the poison you left in my veins.
I’m just a pained mess.

A pained wine, dripping red from your lips.

So devine.

Itching at the corners

Anxiety breathing deeply in my ear

Broken voices repeating painful phrases

Tangled, twisted tongues; tied tight

Scratching at the wound,

Picking at it too

The scab bleeds, runs down

Stains the skin, drops to the ground

Itching. Itching. Itching.

These thoughts are always slicing me open.

Begging for escape,

Wanting another day to try to breathe.

Just breathe.