exit

Like an archipelago, I’m in pieces.
Strung out in the ocean,
I gasp for breath.
Open-mouthed
I gulp above the waves, my lips
Suckling at air bubbles.
I’ve never felt quite so
Alone.

Your words sweat hatred from every pore and the stench fills the air. Wild and wide-eyed, I dart for a way out, but it seems we’ve already left.

Did nobody tell you the world isn’t just yours? There’s more to a door than an exit and I feel like we’ve been here before.

Have I heard these words in an echo? Held them warm and moist in my own mouth, or was that someone else? I forget. But now I am spitting them at your feet, letter by letter. Vowels and consonants wet with my saliva and tears. You can take your sweaty hate and the fingers in your ears; take them far, far away from here because I can’t bear the smell and the silence.

How do you like me now?

Just promise you won’t up and leave me.
Just tell me that you will remain.
Give me something to hold onto,
Something more sturdy than pain.

The scales have tipped and the Earth moved and I’m still tumbling. So give me a chance to grieve, to say my goodbyes to those I’ll never leave.

This isn’t the place I once called home. It’s somehow like, but not the same. Those aren’t my footprints in the sand. I never etched my name in that bark, that was someone else, that was some other time.

I once felt close to you, but that was before you cracked me open, pulled me limb from limb. Before you were all fists and fury. And I’m trying. Trying to put myself back together without missing any of the pieces.

How do you like me now? Now I’m worn to a pulp. Does this work for you? How about if I smile for the camera and pretend I’m still whole?

Promise you won’t try to deceive me.
Just whisper this heavy refrain
I need you now more than ever,
Just think of what we can regain.

 

I thought we were on the same page here. I thought we were breathing the same air. I thought these lips were both of ours to kiss. These words, drenched in salt water, I thought they belonged to us all.

Perhaps I was foolish to think so. All that’s left for me to do now is fill my mouth with blossom and moonlight. Drink in luminescence and chew on flowers if only to remind me of something, anything more beautiful than this.

Let’s stop now, because it’s too much and my legs are tired from treading water. Let’s talk some other time, because every time I try to speak, petals spray from my mouth and tears stream down my face.