four weeks ago i came through the door and told my mother i had fallen for someone who reminded me of the way somebody would feel after seeing the most earth shatteringly beautiful work of art that could ever exist

four weeks ago my mother handed me seven differently colored pills patted my hand and, with a smile that reminded me of the way she used to smile when she would see my sister come home with bruises that were quite opposite of love bites,  said to me
‘thats wonderful sweetie but remember you dont share a name with a hurricane for nothing’
two weeks ago i kissed you for a split second and i knew what the definition of fire really meant
two weeks ago i became the worlds best liar when i convinced myself the way that i could have lit up a whole house with the electricity coursing through my bones actually meant something to you
two weeks ago i lived up to my name the minute i realized it had been the calm before the storm and we had reached the eye of the hurricane and it would not have mattered how much i had cemented my heart for it would have been crushed either way
and here we are and here is where the way i described you as earth shattering comes into play because remember how what you said then made me radiate energy stronger than that of any fucking powerhouse
well now it has me biting knuckles and ripping eyelashes out to stop myself from trying to get to the deepest parts of me with the sharpest parts of whats leftover from the mirror i broke 2 hours ago
and now my mouth won’t stop forming the words it doesn’t hurt like a broken record
and im reaching out for a warm body but all that i touch is a spiderweb woven from the dreams we used to have
and how could i really think any of it was real even after they told me you would have a different haircut every other week
because how could you be serious about wanting to really know who and what and why i am when you could barely even be serious about your own appearance
is that the clock ticking or did i break that too because im drunk and all i can think is how funny it is that i was supposed to be the one to mess everything up and mess it up i did but you were the one who walked away clean and im the one wondering how many times ill have to shove my fingers down my throat till all the remaining bits and pieces of you in me are gone
funny because heres your lesson learned because i warned you the inside of my head was darker than the blood stain on your bathroom floor
funny because i told you and still you told me i was the long abandoned hugely overgrown jungle you wanted to be the first to figure out
fucking hysterical that the second it wasn’t sunny anymore suddenly i was no longer an abstract piece of art but instead the pathetic stack of bad ideas that never worked out for you
but im a mechanical doll turn my key and youll hear its ok its ok its fucking ok and the day i break you’ll see what it means to be nothing but a lot of tiny porcelain pieces scattered around a barren room that nobody has the energy to collect and put back together
you’ll understand what the lady sitting next to your sister in that hospital room kept whispering to her slashed arms about
you’ll go home and you’ll get in the shower and just when you think you’ve scrubbed the last of my self destruction out of your scalp all of a sudden the walls will be closing in and you won’t be able to shut out the sound of me trying to stammer out all the different ways it doesn’t, didn’t, never will matter