you were at some party
when i tried to kill myself
and then you heard the news
so i got a sloppy message
it read distraction and a buzz
and you never followed it up
too busy dancing on tables
or playing mrs claus with
short term seasonal friends
nameless and faceless, but
as long as they weren't me
i suppose it wouldn't matter
to you, just like how i never
mattered to you, even as i
lay rotting in ward seven
at five thirty in the morning
wishing i hadn't been saved
unless it had been by your
hands; i think that's where
i went wrong - you are not
a god and you are not a
devil, easy as it is to imagine
you with fire in your eyes or
a halo glow across your face
(your lovely, lovely face)
you are only human and i am
disillusioned for the first time
in forever, which isn't really
long at all, but i see you now
and i just see ordinary, i see
everybody else, all the same,
exactly like you from the way
you word your pretty promises
to the way you break them
in such a subtle way that i don't
even feel the knife in my back
until i come undone and shatter:
a webbing crack, traced back
to the heart marked "fragile"
bubble wrapped and gifted to
you, only for you drop it and
walk away as i became nothing
just jagged fragments on the
ground, or six feet beneath it,
but at least i see you even if
you don't see me, and if second
time's the charm you never
will again
