Dusty Memories

I'll use his tears, as fuel
to spin my pendulumn-life
backwards
and
choke the crack from
his whispered screams
("I'm broken too")

That was the turning point:
when I realized
how selfish I was being;
I'd never loved
cared, or
hurt
as deeply
as that night-

he touched my nose and told me
he'd seen what he felt was
truth
in my eyes, but only
when I lied to myself.

I am
Macabre,

through the stench of failure across my skin
reminding me that
you're not as perfect as I think you are
(yet).

still he littered me in layers
with words I didn't hear; etched black
into my pores shallow enough
to break my wits and too deep
for me to rinse out;

I'm only breathing what
your fists pumped into my lungs

by FailedCondom