I was at home here
Whispers hold no more promise than the rain
Quietly in a room, dark, holding my disdain
I held a basket filled to the brim with trust
I gave it all to you wrapped in my own skin because I wanted you to have me
I felt ugly all the time
And destroying was the only way I could see
And after all was said all I got to see was your broken face I had invested so much love in
But was it love? Because it felt more like a fucking beating now that I think about it
As if I’m not always thinking about it
I tried to write you words but you spit in my palms and told me it was enough to last
To this day I don’t know or understand what it is you made me feel
But I felt it
I fucking hate you and the casual way you tore feelings right out of my brain
and strung them like beads around your neck
I reach for any words to describe it but nothing works the way I want it to
Nothing sounds the way I want it to because the only sound I can hear is your sickly sweet voice telling me it’s all the same as it used to be.