HOME | DD

Description
Over the years I have given you too much of a hold on my life.
When I sleep. The pace of my every breath.
I wonder why this is, when you have created the brokenness I feel.
There needs to be a moment (however fleeting) when I can finally
cut these barbed wire ties around my heart.
But the clippers I have used in the past are too dull.
The edges of the blades have been smoothed, and I find myself
still placing too much weight in intimacy.
Begging my heart to remember the long walks we've taken,
I lay next to him and feel as though there is an imperfection
when his hands won't reach for my exposed flesh,
or his lips won't crash into mine with all of the passion I feel.
Life is so hard when you feel this broken, and you place
too much trust in the physical.
I remember yearning for someone who could handle
the mess I thought you'd left in my soul.
I feel now as though the hurricane tearing me apart is all mine.
You are long gone, and I still can't feel whole
(without penetration).
So, I bleed my feelings into acts of physical, and I can feel it
draining me of all the things that are made of me.
My completion does not diminish with his abstinence, yet I feel
as though I am more broken in the moments when I am in want.
I love feeling his breath against me most nights.
Still, when I desire a connection that cannot be given at the moment
I feel as though I have done something wrong.
In those moments I miss feeling the blade slide across my skin,
I miss the intoxication that masks my beliefs about you.
Nights as these I feel the lies you spewed in my ears, and
(as twisted as it may be)
I crave someone to hold me down again.
At least then I felt I had a purpose.
When I was nothing but a pawn, there was still a job to do.

If only I could show the rest of my life the amount of dedication
I have put into hating you.

That is perhaps the scariest truth I have to offer.

Description
Over the years I have given you too much of a hold on my life.
When I sleep. The pace of my every breath.
I wonder why this is, when you have created the brokenness I feel.
There needs to be a moment (however fleeting) when I can finally
cut these barbed wire ties around my heart.
But the clippers I have used in the past are too dull.
The edges of the blades have been smoothed, and I find myself
still placing too much weight in intimacy.
Begging my heart to remember the long walks we've taken,
I lay next to him and feel as though there is an imperfection
when his hands won't reach for my exposed flesh,
or his lips won't crash into mine with all of the passion I feel.
Life is so hard when you feel this broken, and you place
too much trust in the physical.
I remember yearning for someone who could handle
the mess I thought you'd left in my soul.
I feel now as though the hurricane tearing me apart is all mine.
You are long gone, and I still can't feel whole
(without penetration).
So, I bleed my feelings into acts of physical, and I can feel it
draining me of all the things that are made of me.
My completion does not diminish with his abstinence, yet I feel
as though I am more broken in the moments when I am in want.
I love feeling his breath against me most nights.
Still, when I desire a connection that cannot be given at the moment
I feel as though I have done something wrong.
In those moments I miss feeling the blade slide across my skin,
I miss the intoxication that masks my beliefs about you.
Nights as these I feel the lies you spewed in my ears, and
(as twisted as it may be)
I crave someone to hold me down again.
At least then I felt I had a purpose.
When I was nothing but a pawn, there was still a job to do.

If only I could show the rest of my life the amount of dedication
I have put into hating you.

That is perhaps the scariest truth I have to offer.