It’s small at first. Little mistakes, little slip ups, he doesn’t notice that you’re shaking underneath him at night. “Pray a little.” he says in shallow breaths, “Leave it for another day.” Alright, save it for the drunken nights, it’s only memories, it can’t hurt to cry over him anymore.
“Stay inside today.” Your conscious warns, it’s raining, I want to stand under it till I can’t see straight anymore, pretend it’s liquor burning my tongue, but instead I’m sitting underneath an umbrella kissing you.
“Hey!” He screams out for me, I can’t feel my legs, I drank too much. I couldn’t help it, he makes me want to set fire to every beautiful piece left of me. I’m slipping, falling, rocks bruise my knees, it feels better than watching him leave.
“Please don’t.” It’s a plea I’ve been chanting over and over since the last time I saw you. I can’t walk straight, his eyes are brown, nothing like your hazel ones. They whisper, “You’re so beautiful.” I can’t swallow his kindness, I’m crying in the shower again, let it go, forget his name.
I’m stumbling again, the liquor chokes my lungs, I’m trying not to cry, it burns, it burns. “Stay a little while longer,” you whisper in my ear, “We can pretend for one more night.”
One drop of blood, two drops of alcohol, tear up the memories you left on my skin, I can’t ever let someone else in. It’s small at first, you don’t scream till I’ve pissed you off, you don’t make me cry till I’m holding onto your lies. This isn’t love, this is your shiny dancing star, your closet full of scars, this is who you are.
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My first love was manipulative and emotionally abusive. He made me feel wonderful one day and distraught the next. I wanted to leave so many times but I loved him. When he left me I felt destroyed as a person and as a poet.