The day your breath first left your lips like sonar and didn’t echo back, was it the hurt, or the fire that came first? To bleed is human but to poison is corruption and wiping your fingerprints from the bottle is deceit. Did it help you get to sleep? Were you able to lie to yourself? Does the shelter of nobility make you feel powerful? Do you swallow your power with cream, or does bitterness suit you? When you lie awake at night and look back on your actions do you see only in white, or are your downfalls visible? Is your black lash visceral?

I wish I could dissect you. I’d kill to see with my eyes the construction that facilitates the psychology of the victimized in their own minds. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You blame me. Are your hands clean?

The day your words took stabs, I thought we were fencing. Did you cover up your eyes to hide the blood thirst? I wrapped my understanding around you like a blanket because you made me do this naked, and I know what it feels like to be cold. Was my love for you a weakness? Did you need to make me pay? Did you need to see me hurting? Did you think it would make me stay? Did you learn your heart had a black spot? Did you feel like breaking bone? Did you cut to watch me suffer? Did you need to hear this poem?

I never whimpered. I never made you listen my pain. I never stood on your doorstep and told you in half breaths how close I have come to insane. In silence, I have protected you. In vengeance, you’ve weighed me down. I stood in your place and I did not forsake you. I wish you could be saying that now.

Of Poison on iTunes

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