filter

My brain thinks too fast. So many thoughts all rushing to the surface at once. I’m glad my thoughts are my own, that no one else can hear the hurtful things going on in my head. I have a chance to sort them out before speaking or giving any too much power or making them true. I have a chance to tell them, “stop.” They feel like they’re screaming at me, though. Some thoughts are so loud I question if my lips started moving. They didn’t, but how do I silence it? How do you quiet the voices inside? I feel like I’m overfiltering coffee, so you wind up with watered down caffeine. My thoughts are so filtered through that it’s like I’m not even myself sometimes. I’m a carefully selected group of words to tell you how I’m feeling, while inside I’m breaking down around myself and beating myself up over nothing. Will I ever learn to stop? Does anyone, truly?

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spinning

my head is spinning with the thoughts of where we once left off. it doesn’t seem that i matter much to you anymore. and i guess that it’s fine, but now i feel like i wasted my time. i just wish that you knew a little sooner, but i guess i could have told ya. i could have moved on, too. but i held on to you. and it hurt more than it felt good, so i don’t know why i wanted it. maybe it just hurt to lose you, maybe i couldn’t let go of you. but it wasn’t worth it at all. it wasn’t worth the rise and fall. it isn’t worth the words you told me, or the hurt you push upon me. i shouldn’t be used to feeling numb. i shouldn’t be used to when you run. it shouldn’t feel like this. it should have some bliss. i should be smiling. i should be happy. there’s nothing about you anymore that can make up for your problems. you create a mess, and you walk away. you think it’s us, but it’s you who causes a scene. this isn’t how it should have been, but my efforts meant nothing. this isn’t how it should have ended, but you’re selfish and I’m suffering. i would say i am sorry, but i don’t apologize for a thing. you deserved it all, you deserve more than what you got if I’m being honest.

taste

you said you like the taste of me.

but how could you like something so bittersweet?

bite my tongue, i bleed tar into your mouth.

kiss my lips, I’ll suck your air right out.

i take everything. i need it.

i need to feed the inner demons.

i try to ignore it, but the scratching gets deeper.

before i know it, i have claws in my veins.

speckled spikes running down the line,

capillaries bursting with toxic invasion.

i must do it, i MUST.

and then it’s done. and you are gone.

the taste of me is nothing to be won.

milk

I miss who I was before I knew you. Not all the alcohol I drank to be numb, but the sweet girl that was just looking to be loved; the girl that would do anything to give love. The beautiful, milky white girl that had a world of colors behind her eyes, her laugh, her words. Now I’m a broken, fragmented piece of myself, only I can’t find all the shards to place perfectly back into their packing order. I flinch at your touch, even at your words. I question everything that floats out of your mouth before it even tickles your vocal chords. When you hold me, I feel vacant in your arms; a spineless creature tucking me into themselves, feeding off of any love left loss inside myself. You fed off of everything I had in me; any confidence or love I had for myself, you threw it on the floor like the many pictures I used to have of us that I had to rid my entire life of just to drown out the hurt a glance at them will make me feel. I miss those pictures sometimes, but I know I am better off kept blind from any ounce of happiness you ever gave me; those moments were too few and too far between, anyways. You were always too busy blaming me for your own crippling damage inside your head and heart, too choked by the dark, dirty water to even come up for air to see what you had caused up on the surface. And any time you let yourself open your dormant eyes, you refused to believe that you were at fault and only sucked more life from me, telling me it had been my fault and that I wasn’t easy to love. How could someone love something so broken? You made sure I felt like no one ever could, so how could I leave when I mean nothing to no soul left on this world you created in front of me? How could I just walk out so easily, when I had already been staggering for miles to try and find your heart again? Did I ever even really see it, or was that all part of the plot as well? I never meant anything to you; don’t go crying over spilt milk when you’re lactose intolerant.