the sinking, thick fog that weighs down my bones and gnaws on my marrow, parasitic and familiar

i feel like throwing up
but sticking two fingers down my throat
doesn't help at all

trust me, i've tried it

and i'm clinging to the remnants of you, 
left behind when the shadows came back, 
rhetorical goodbyes and the smell of smoke

funny how people tend to romanticize this
but my punched-out eyes with their swooping purple crescents aren't pretty, 
and falling asleep over your coffee and waking bleary-eyed in the morning
isn't attractive by any means

this is not supposed to look neat
and it isn't

despite all the media trying to persuade us differently

sacrificing yourself for someone else
just leaves them with the burden of your ghost-touch
along the back of your neck,
weighing you down until the air in your throat sticks there

i'm struggling, stagnating, 
fingers in v-formation 
like i'm walking alone at night 
and i've got my keys extending from my knuckles
ready if i need to be, because i am young
and i appear female 

but you are all i need to defend myself from, 
your ice blue eyes that crackle my joints
and synchronized biting comments

but i'll live
because i always do, 
buried six feet under
and choking on dirt until my lungs blur. 

The End

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