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jonadine

Insecurities, Fears, and Depression

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I have fallen in love with my own broken heart,

I hoard my hurts, all pot shards and broken glass,

Closer than my own skin

 

I hate them, with a lengthening hate.

They stick to me in hot taffy strings I try to pluck off with unbuttered hands,

 

I'm tired of swimming in wet concrete,

Trying to breathe underwater,

Frustrated, exhausted.

 

I try to walk on fractured limbs

Splintered bones grind through my flesh, but

I will get there. Just you watch.

 

Faceless, faithless lovers, they are all that I reject

They are in my head, in my bed, warm musky scent of my own bad decisions.

 

I will be free, someday. The holes they left

Spackled shut, some paved over,

Some filled in with loam and growing new life.

 

I put them all in the killing jar, pluck off their wings

Watch them squirm their innards out

and I'll do it every day until they are gone.

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I have fallen in love with my own broken heart,

I hoard my hurts, all pot shards and broken glass,

Closer than my own skin

 

They cut me, and leave holes that bleed perspective,

Wearing grooves of bad habits that that fit like

Your favorite old jeans.

 

I hate them, with a strengthening hate.

They stick to me in hot taffy strings I try to pluck off with unbuttered hands, and they burn like napalm.

 

Faceless, faithless lovers, they are all that I reject

They are in my head, in my bed, warm musky scent of my own bad decisions.

 

I'm tired of swimming in wet concrete,

Trying to breathe underwater,

Frustrated, exhausted.

 

I try to walk on fractured limbs

Splintered bones grind through my flesh, but

I will get there. Just you watch.

 

I will be free, someday. The holes left

Spackled shut, some paved over,

Some filled in with loam and growing new life.

 

Right now they torment me, but I see the future,

And I will win this battle, have already won,

It just remains to stamp them out.

 

I put my insecurities in the killing jar, pluck off their wings

Watch them squirm their innards out

and I'll do it every day til they are gone.

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So descriptive. So real. I can feel the hot taffy on my skin. Yes, my unbuttered hands do burn trying to peal the nasty stuff away.

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