Poems

this is why i go to therapy

I miss your touch and the bruises that it left,

Your words and the aching stab in my heart,

I miss the Hell we walked through for each other.

Love was never meant to make me whole,

It was made to leave me bruised and battered,

To leave scars in its wake.

And that's why this love isn't mine,

it completes me, it doesn't rip me to shreds,

when I bleed for him he cleans my wounds.

He doesn't revel in the pain of it all,

in the beauty of drowning myself to prove it,

He just is, and I just am.