rehabilitation

1.

i never lived with walls

for i never believed in

harm nor knew things that could

break them down

until i met you

fear would slip out of my fingertips

unable to stick with someone

like me

for i had no business with fright until

the first sharp pain i felt in my gut and

that sticky burn in my throat

that tasted like rust

the day you first

choked up my veins with words that killed me

and did things that blinded others but

revealed ugliness to me.

2.

'a year ago

i would never have imagined you like this'

they say

and i agree

because 275 days ago

i was life in a candle-flame

on a calm night

swaying and

unshaken

i am still life in a candle-flame

now

but i have tasted the risk of

being blown out.

3.

i never lived with walls but

now i live with 275 of them;

it isn't just a fucking ugly coincidence

that it was a saturday, a 17th

two days ago.

4.

i have lived the past few billion hours

trying to manoeuvre the right way

wondering why smoke leave no shadows

wondering why sleep is such

a difficult concept

wondering if anything can make it better

things do make it better

until the next dip

and i cannot cling onto the changes

5.

they told me to let it go

that i am strong

and i tell myself to

fucking forget all of it, already

but i am not strong enough.

it's been long established that

it is easier said than done

because it has finally revealed to me

that despite how hard i have tried

building walls and

distracting myself

there are still things like

one text message on the top floor of McDonald's and

seeing a friend of his outside Starbucks

giving me dirty looks

that affect me

and puncture me with bulletholes of feelings that i thought

i would never feel again

6.

it is a disappointing stab in the stomach

when you have spent the past few months

trying to forget his number

and the pain the torture

gulp down the lies

the accusations

and one memory decides to revisit

any point of any day

and everything comes gushing back at you

crushing down your walls and

drowning any speck of happiness you

managed to recollect

can'tforget.can'tforget.iwanttoforget.letmeforget.

the 017s and

254s and

fucking 1842s.

and i want to kill my mind because

it is killing me.

7.

no, i don't fucking love him anymore

it is his inflictions that i live with daily

i do not miss them

i want them to go

to go

go

leave me

alone.

i had managed to stop myself crying

unable to digest that

the last time i cried was because of

him.

it isn't a fucking ugly coincidence that it was

a saturday, a 17th

two days ago

and i cried again

because of him.