my telltale heart
i haven’t felt like this in a while. mostly because i haven’t felt anything in a while. i can’t fall in love like this. like half of me is still riptiding through someone else’s veins. & there’s no one to fall in love with anyway. briefly there was one i thought could shred the bezoar to butterflies but he found someone right under his floorboards. my telltale heart never shuts the fuck up, i would have kept him up all night anyway. & i care for him so i am happy someone can give him what he deserves besides a really good blow job because let’s be real, if i showed up in the pouring rain on his stoop, all i’d have to show for it is a mouth with broken hinges. i wouldn’t have done that, to be clear. foolish little girl with the yo yo string, with the lollipop earrings, with the strawberry ice cream lips. i kiss on my knees & pray laying down. god has had his fill of me & so have you & so has he. maybe i have too. how many times can you say the same thing & pretend there’s a gift here? how many times can you back flip, benson boone? sometimes i worry i gave up too soon but then i wake up shaking because i can still feel your fingers gripping my throat. it’s not kinky. i’m still afraid. i started smoking weed again so i don’t remember once i wake up. it took me three years to move on from lukewarm water, how long will it take to get over boiling? i’m over boiling. & it’s been a year & for all the work i’ve put in, i’m just 60 pounds heavier & so is my heart. & maybe there’s freedom in building a body you never could have loved but you built a brick wall around me, montresor, & i don’t want to die here, unaware of my sins. i want everyone to know i was broken & how i was broken & that i am still broken but i’m trying, i swear i’m trying. it’s just slower & stickier than i expected, just like july. i have fresh stretch marks on my belly & i’ll probably keep my shirt on the next time i’m brave enough to fuck someone & i’m remembering what it was to be nineteen in all the wrong ways. what if violence is the closest to love i’ll ever be? what if the closest to healed is drowning out my own screams? if they knew i still stick my fingers down my throat when i hear your voice ricocheting in my head, would they lock me up? if you knew how much control you still have over me, would it get you off? if i keep moving forward, will it ever be enough?
