I could call you a thief.

The way you snuck into my brain

and made a mockery out of my neurons,

at night I can feel them laughing…

I wish the joke wasn’t me.

 

I’ve spent years,

upon years,

upon years,

trying to make a home of this body,  

just to want to rip myself back out.

 

I want to scrub you away like a stain,

but you seem to be the worst kind.

The type that won’t leave,

until you feel it’s fit.

 

You fit yourself

into places you do not belong.

This skin,

a guard of my temple,

the one you have imposed on,

Simply

Because

You can.

 

I feel your hands,

firmly placed around my sanity

like a noose.

I’m begging you to cut me loose,

but I’m just a misguided ghost,

in the shadow of a body I once owned.

 

It’s too late.

You seized this body

with no remorse.

I shouldn’t be so surprised;

I have always been told men are born to take.

Boys will be boys right?

I mean

women are toys,

just another arbitrary pussy in your arsenal.

I guess I knew you loved a challenge,

but I couldn’t guess what that really meant.

 

They told me one out of five would have to tell this story,

who the fuck knew it would be me?

What do I do?

When everytime I blink I see your face.

I thought thieves wore masks,

that would make this robbery

a whole lot easier to swallow.

 

Your kisses

tasted so sweet,

now every time I touch my lips together,

they seem to be laced with poison,

and you wouldn’t even know it.

 

What did I do?

I was too afraid to let my knees buckle,

too prideful to let myself lose,

playing a two person game with one controller,

there was no way for me to win,

so I pretended to play along.

I couldn’t have pressed exit even if I tried;

I wonder if you realized

you’re the only one good at playing video games.

 

I’ve spent the last four days

trying to forget your smile,

trying to pretend I didn’t see the devil in your eyes,

trying to wipe away the reticence of your hands on my hips,

your lips on my lips,

your fingertips…

 

You always said

life is a variable

you are the constant,

you were right.

Constant sleepless nights,

constant fear,

constant pain,

constant wishing I would shed my skin,

 

I hate you.

When I said you would be my muse,

I hoped I’d be writing about the man who stole my heart,

not the man who stole my body.

 

I’ve become

just like you,

a trespasser.

My bones shake,

as I try to wiggle my way back into my frame.

You always had a way

of waking up the crazy in me.

Who knew it would never sleep again?

 

You asked me

if I regret meeting you.

You kicked down all my doors

and found comfort

resting in every part of my brain.

I’d crack open my skull

and rip you out if I could.

So yes.

To the boy who has walked out of my life,

carrying what is left of me

slug over his shoulder,

with the rest of his sins to pray away on Sunday…

I wish I never met you.