when you were young you lived in stagnant ways, with bottles piled around your pillowcase and my underwear littering your dingy room. sold your soul for motel card keys. the stage was set to collapse. it wound you up and drew you in. you with those stained sheets and bloodshot eyes. rubbing your wrist. fumbling with your hair. my anemic arms around your waist and the die had been cast to spill.
when you were young, you kissed me on the mouth and pushed back my unwashed hair so you could feel the pulse of my neck below your fingertips. because we were rarely alive. it tied you down and made you cry. you with those tired eyes and indifferent air. veins like crystal. mouth like starving. and those nights i was not enough, our skin strained and i tore my hair out screaming as you pushed me off your bed and took whatever could fit into your syringe. shook it off with pills and booze. it filled you up and sucked you dry.
when you were young, you lived in a hospital bed. and you memorized the sterile ceiling tiles in order to replace my smudged lipstick smile. sold your body for anesthesia, the city was built to crumble. oh my god the world was carved in so much white, so much fucking white and fluorescent lights- it drew you shut with corset eyes and i screamed and i screamed and i fucking screamed. with a voice that was not loud enough. a voice that was not strong enough.
close the windows, love. i don’t want to see the world outside. i don’t want to hear the paramedics shouting or watch the glow of the ambulance follow us here. here where the nighttime is cool and soft and your eyes can finally open. here where i can hold your weightless bones and give you my ragged, primal breath like we are young again. it holds you still and stands you up. you with the hollow body and exploding veins.
we will survive. we will survive. the stage is set to start again.