I felt a sickening thud in my chest, and wondered if i could actually, possibly die from a broken heart. Then my heart started beating so furiously fast that for a while, the pulsing sound was all i could hear.
I remembered, suddenly, a time when he placed two fingers over my wrist and felt my heart beat within my veins. There, i can feel it right there.
And then i was left all alone, with nothing but his fingerprints and a pulsating heart.
I counted the number of steps to the road, and wondered which unfortunate car would be smeared with my blood if i stepped off the curb with my eyes closed. I imagined feeling the heat of the headlights, my legs being pinned down and my body dragged and burnt by the rough edges of the road before slowly bleeding to death.
Then I thought about my parents, and stopped. I couldn't be so fucking selfish.
Instead, I ran with a friend. I ran until my legs ached and my lungs burnt, towards the fucking glorious light that we aimed for. I didn't know what was there, I didn't know if there even was anything there, but it didn't matter.
You didn't write me love poems, so now i'm writing them for myself. Capital letters on my header so people know i'm making changes you never would have approved of. I'm laughing loud now, i'm singing where others can hear me, i'm pretending that i'm on stage because maybe shakespeare knows a little something.
You never held me gently to wake up, you never pushed my hair back behind my ear. You didn't buy me chocolate. You never drew me flowers. We watched your shows and listened to your music and ate the foods that you loved and i tolerated. Well now i'm putting in extra conditioner and lathering up. I'm not wearing my hair like i used to. I'm somebody else now, and I look it. Mornings are bliss because i rise and i mean it. I'm pretty and perfect and i don't need to wait around for you to remember to tell me it, i know it. I draw my own flowers on everything i own, i bathe in them. I marathon seasons of television without worrying that you'll miss something. I listen to my music so loud that the speakers start jumping. I eat food that feels good and i feel good to be eating.
And my hands? These hands that have scoured floors and your skin and have held you and held us together and pushed myself into the idea of what you wanted and scratched and clawed and never took enough? These hands are athena, these hands are temple for. These hands don't need to apologise for where they've been, they know and they're happy about it. These hands could build cities and burn down rome. These hands grow gardens and sew with steel. These hands are fire. These hands write my destiny, paint my sky and swaddle my sleep. These hands are strong enough to pull me to shore. I am free. I am free. No. I don't need you anymore. - inkskinned
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