Film

Sometimes touch feels like blades. The four razors attached to your palms and your thumb driving into my flesh with a subtle grasp.

The thing is...I always crave that pain,

I always crave you because I know those blades are actually lifelines of healing, filling the wounds and cracks in my soul with rose gold . The pain comforts me when you remind me of it, when you remind me to accept, when you remind me that I can let those painful blades feel like warmth and love instead.

I know I'm safe,

I know...

But my psyche doesn't know,

Even after all of these years and crops we've sown,

My neurosis prevails.

It's a constant argument within,

I just hope you know that when I lose that argument,

I will continue to fulfill my promise that I made to you, to myself, and to all of my dearest loved ones,

I will get up and stand, face these horsemen uprising from the flickers between the film in my mind.

Because...

Though even that I can't see them or touch them now,

They are not of a stature in which I stand before,

They are within me now,

Apparitions of my visual mind,

The kind of paranormal shit that rubs salt in wounds,

The kind of parasite,

The kind of haunting that only a poltergeist can produce.

I want to let go,

Please let me go..

I don't want the air that touches my skin to burn anymore.

You,

You said these things,

Did these things,

Watched me bleed and vomit,

Yet I hold the burden,

I have your story written on my skin,

Unfortunately it's my story now too because of that.

You know

And I wish I didn't know,

I wish I knew better than to have known people like you.

You spit daggers like you had a place to,

You sat me in the way, because I was easy to blame…

Easy to blame the one who feels every detail of every scene,

The one who is too fragile, more fragile than the silence I keep.

I'm not one for psychopathic tendencies but if you think of it,

The opposite may just be the same, It's just different in who it's directed towards and who it's directed by,

Rather an emotional masochist instead.

So within, I house this place of torture,

All of the blood I've shed, the salty tears and cries,

The bruises and bones protruding.

Nobody knew,

Though if they were aware of these things, they knew I couldn't be changed until I chose to heal on my own...

I was left alone with what you couldn't hold for even a moment, I held all of it, but I also held on to me,

With each breath I take, I'm refining my hurt, I'm enduring and building my soul's foundation so that I can live along with that weight, much like it's nothing more than a feather.