Wherein I am found
to be lacking
scruples
of the sort
to which they
are accustomed.
I would drown you,
still even now
if my hands could
grasp your throat.
Push you under so quickly,
your eyes wouldn’t register
the change of medium,
until the sting of the water
screamed for you to close them.
Push you under,
and pull myself close to your chest.
We used to talk about synchronized
deaths
in our sleep.
When I laid there pouring,
night terrors still
holding my heart captive.
I’d forgive you the instant
after.
No bad blood
between distant lovers.
Those old scars,
won’t ever heal,
but you could trace them with your hand
once again.
This section is my weakness, and my
undying loyalty
to those who hurt me.
It means nothing anymore.
Shadows of my self,
echoes i don’t really hear.
Self-contained
mad-
ness
and never
forgotten fears.
Nine Crimes,
all of them yours.
I still hold that pain.
It’s heavy
and molded to me
so closely.
I can’t help but feel
that without it,
I am nothing again.