I press my fingers
into that soft spot
where love used to dwell
now it is just a sack of skin stiched together
with the echoes of my failures
my arms once wanted to cradle hope
now they are utterly empty
the only weight they hold is my apathy
can it be measured in ounces
it’s bundled up
in torn fragments of my guilt
I spit it out before it could even breathe
that room smelled like copper and abandonment
I taste it on my teeth sometimes
bitter as broken promises
I keep my sins in mason jars
peaches floating in syrup thick memory
baby teeth and rings sinking to the bottom
I am a vessel of rusted nails
each one a memory sharpened against
the grindstone of resentment
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ค
Pretty words for ugly things.
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ค 