happy birthday to you

music box notes are plucking at my heart with gentle ocean fingers
while the tears come in waves;
burning up my eyes and then fading into a soft murmur in my throat.
i sit here crunching stale food and stuffing my shirt into my mouth in turns,
sinking my teeth into my skin on occasion to make sure
that i am capable of feeling reality, that the fact that i can still feel
warmth on my bloody-broken lips proves everything really happened.
what did you do, what did you do, what did you do,
i keep screaming to myself
in between flashes of pain and the taste of heavy breath that is going to haunt me until i no longer need to inhale air
or to share it with anyone. i reek of this. this deep sweet too-heavy taste.
you said you wouldn’t take it back
but i would give anything for a time machine, a reason
to take away a little of the blood that has sprung from my lips
and your fists this day.

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