i'm prying at the door for god to let me in until my nails bleed and stain my skin, drying and flaking like sin. i want to tell him about an old lover, but everything is dying. i want to tell her about how he left me long ago, my ear is pressed

up against the door and i hear the hum of the light in the next room over.

life resides there, there is even a sliver of hope for the aching pity of my heart. the wick of my body burns with hatred for him, i'll eventually evaporate to nothingness, the scent and feel will only linger for a brief moment's time.

the white floss wrapped around my fingers, pulling and pushing the strands wrapped around my index fingers, ridding of the kernels of cour wedged tightly between two alabaster heads between pink gums; it's reminded me of you. hard to rid of, i've been hopeless about it for the longest time. i think my teeth are decaying, the scent from my open mouth is unbearable. everything is dying, and i from the outside in too.

your body is something that’s formed to resemble you, but it isn’t you. what is it? you're dead and dying too.

the twinkle of red and white lights come from behind as we're driving away to some place. my new lover sits at the driver's seat, he looks in his rearview mirror before pulling off to the side of the road. in the seconds we’ve exchanged words before the siren warning, someone endured something far less than a kind fate. later that night we learned the burns were beyond third degree. everything is dying. i am reminded of you again, the panicked call to rush to your house. i remembered you were everything that was dying. i wonder if that’s how i looked trying to get to you, when the dirt road formed potholes, it was difficult to try to chase. there was nothing else that came from it. i thought about that person whose life was in a state of an emergency four times since then, but i thought of you a million times after.

this ache is far greater than anything i’ve endured, i am uncertain of what is supposed to come after it. it’s so easy in theory. everything is kind of dying, plagued by lover's guilt. i am at the mercy of the poet, i end on his terms. he must see me as foolish, to be so thankful for cruelty. he has the power to undo me, to pull at every thread he could to ensure that my humility is something i no longer possess.

between the violence i endured and the act of everything kind of dying, this alone is tame by comparison. it made me realise the acts anyone will take, risks bleed out the horrors before they get to the good parts. everything is kind of dying.

the night is tender when i think of you, a mouth of love with a wandering hand. have you loved me then? i think about that moment. the way your eyes undress me to see my most vulnerable state, i haven’t forgotten your expression. until i remember such sour words fed, placed upon my tongue by your mouth. i think of you in this way.

i’ve deprived myself of sleep since then with sick intent to mesh my days together so that the memory of you is faraway. an achievement of mine is to ruin myself completely, to destroy every part of me. i yearn for me, mourn for what was left of my soul. i ate from the palms of lovers who promised fresh fruits only to be met with rotten core. hunger overpowers the mind, how could i have cared when starved? when desperation is the only thing that filled my belly?

maybe my goal is to villainize you, to make myself forget why i ever wanted to return to a familiar comfort. you see, i could love again but the consequences are always near. they fear living without my existence, feeding upon my entirety. the poetic existence of you makes me want to run back, to kiss you again and again until i am left breathless.

why do you haunt me? i’ve tried to forget you, but every single time i fall hopelessly i am reminded of you. the way the bark of the trees curl upwards and pell from them, i think of how well you used them to ignite flames. was your goal to destroy a forest? if so, you’ve succeeded successfully in ruining me. i am nothing but smoulder that clings to the clothes of those who try their best to fight flames, yearning to be close to anyone who gives me the chance. their hands gnaw at their skin, pulling and peeling away.

please leave me alone. it’s so hard to breathe…