They life is like a box of….a box of
life is just a box
we stuff everything inside and lock it all up
every thought a person can think I thought
I thought of life and death, of friends and love,
of everything under the sun,
and everything under the moon too
when I was 17, I told a lie
by the time I turned 18, I had already told 27
I’m 21 now, and I have completely lost count
I blocked out every hurtful thing ever said to me
and every hurtful thing I ever did to myself
maybe my pain would feel more real if you could touch it,
run your fingers over it,
feel the mingling of blood and sweat dance across your pupils and waltz down your face
what if I told you i cried the first time?
and the time after that
my cheek knows no lover like the back of your hand
my lips know no savior like red wine in a lonely hour
mistaking attention for love, I wrapped up every secret thing you said to me and swallowed it
it couldn’t fit inside my chest, so it dropped down into my stomach
I like to sit at the lake alone and think,
but I often find you here,
wrapped in my every dream,
every thought,
every breath
I swallow that tobacco wind, and I taste you
running hands down legs and across chest to find the knife wounds again
fingers touch scars not made by you
I wish I could crack open ribs,
pull out heart,
and touch my real scars
the ones flesh could not heal
the ones prayers did not answer
the ones that keep me up at night
insomnia is a colder lover than you ever were
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gotten used to the bruises
they’re like constellations
mapping out every insecurity and pointing me home all at the same time
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt
I’d be lying if I said I was alright
I’m 21 now,
and I’ve already told more lies than I could ever count.

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