Sticks And Stones May Break My Bones, But Your Words Are Slowly Killing Me. Poem by Lauren Harper

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but your words are slowly killing me.
Ironically it seems I cannot stop cannot retain the need to write about your lethal sentences.
As if I might stumble upon undo button, backspace key, trashcan, memory eraser, delete, delete delete. Please.
Perhaps my memories alone survive the night.
At least I hope.
Because if you remembered...
How could you raise your eyes to mine?
How could you dismiss my pain painted face?
How could you do it again?
Sometimes when you are finished apologies are exchanged like greetings, hastily and insincere.
If the guilt proves too great for what is left of your alcohol tainted memory you will speak as if to tape everything back together.
By now I am nothing left to tape together.
I am empty.
Drained at the ratio to the tears that fell from my eyes and rolled down my chin.
I am shattered like the glass of the mug thrown from my nightstand.
Airborne feet searching for ground (pause)searching for where they belong until face kisses pavement like a fierce lovers lips longing their place.
I didn't know my place according to you, mother was in a shattered heap on the floor.
Sometimes I start to believe that is where I belong too.
Sometimes I even wonder why I am still breathing.
Sometimes I begin to reach for the shard of glass in the corner of the room.
But I stop.
I remember how alive I feel when happy
I remember there is an exit.
I remember the acceptance letter in my hands.
Then you challenge to take my future away?
It is difficult to not be bitter, callous my heart over, build walls with just enough ventilation to survive.
I spent a long while that way surviving.
If I'm being completely honest I'm not entirely sure if i have escaped my walls.
Letting you walk all over me doesn't mean I am not bitter, does not mean I am being nice, does not mean I am even a little okay.
Lover tells me to open the door even if just a little bit so that our hands might graze.
I want to but I don't know how.
I designed my walls without an entrance.
How do you open a door that does not exist?
I didn't realize my walls were built until lover asked for an embrace because they were tired of being held at arm's length.
I'm just a dented can with the ripped label that everyone reaches past to grab hold of the unblemished one.