deepundergroundpoetry.com

Skin

I have finished empty shampoo bottles, shared my favorite pasta recipes.
I have done it all, and yet the dull ache of sweet release still gnaws at my insides.
He weighs upon my chest like the weight of the world, waiting to strike me down.
There is some days where I forget that I am living, that I too am existing.

I sometimes like to count how long I can stand without breathing, because I like the feeling of the air whooshing back into my lungs, How greedy my body and I become.
I like the feeling of nights on an empty stomach, because the water goes down so soft.
I like the feeling of a hunger so fierce that my body cries out for me, and I am finally needed.

I've finished empty shampoo bottles, shared my favorite brownie recipes,
And yet depression masks himself as a desire that I am too weak to resist.
He holds me in his arms and leaves me there until I am petrified, lost to the world.
And I remain that way until grief breaks me free, demanding I feel the pain she's given.
And then it all happens again, the cycle remains the same, and yet I am still caged.

I have finished books upon books, done all of my most favorite things,
And yet here I am, wasting away in a petrified world that I am too good to belong in.
I remain in the same day, the same feelings, the same clothes,
And most of all, the same fucking skin