I am at my best with you, at my worst with you.
Satisfying happiness, intense pain.
The highs and lows are wearing me out, breaking my heart, bleeding me to death.
Feeling ugly, not wanted, not needed, not heard.
Bodies in the same airspace circling the same skies but not meeting.
The petals are falling off the flower that used to be so vibrant and alive.
The edges are drying up and hardening.
As each cut clots the scar remains, imperfect healing felt with each movement.
The lying did me in. Felt so stupid. Still do.
How do I find my place again? Suspicions were right.
Wish I could bathe in healing waters. Go back. Can't.
Anger is the blanket covering the sheets of hurt.
My fingertips are white holding on. For how long?
