i have little bruises all over my body; fingerprints on my hips and waist, dents on my wrist. burns kiss my neck and cheeks, forehead and knuckles. this is happening for a reason, i tell myself. this was meant to happen. this is not a mistake, and even if it is, well, it was meant to happen too.
confessions are spoken twice; first to your own heart, then to their faces, spoken into a warm wind while gazing at the moon blazing through piles of black clouds. i nodded, admitted what no one else could believe; that there is an amount of strength reserved for hearts that hold questions with no answers. i listed every what-if: what if those days had never happened? would things have been different, had it not been for a few misspoken, breathless words? it doesn’t matter anymore, though. those days happened, the unforgivable words were spoken and true, and we were left broken.
i listened to your song today, and where it used to make me smile, it made my heart go cold with the fear of the underlying meaning. but maybe the ruin is inevitable now.
these are the things that make my bones crack: smiles that look like scars, kitchen whispers, pounding mallets, paintings made of words, and the thought that maybe all i could do was not enough, and i’m going to get the call one day that it all went too far.