#Exodus.

Before this day, I waited for you as I slowly watch my bones turned into dust.
You didn’t ask what I wanted – a reset button.
(that you couldn't give.)
I waited for you... to go back to how we used to matter.
I feel this space of void in my rib cage, as my heart sits low.
You asked me how I was doing - I wanted to tell you - the air in my lungs feels stale.

Sometimes I feel these veins pumping blood but my heart’s vacant.
You asked me how I was doing – I wanted to tell you – I missed you in between breaths.
You claimed you were selfless, How.
I’m hanging over the cliff – but you wouldn’t throw the rope.

I guess you never understand the weight of your words until they someone in the chest.
You wanted to know how I was doing - I still get night terrors, I am terrified of never being able to soothe the ache of
memories of you.

I wish there were more life left in these lungs. I wish this poorly stitched heart wouldn’t burst at the seams too soon.
I wish.

These attempts to recover is morbid. How.
When your fingerprints are all over me.

You gloat at the thought of being free as I break at the thought that it’s all changing.
I've learned now, that the truth about forever is it’s not.

You asked me how I was doing - my heart is one stone’s toss from a riot inside my chest and no one knows.

It’s tragic, recovering from a recovery.

...I know these scars won’t disappear, but at least in the shadows, they're harder to be seen.
I really hope I will be okay, I hope the wind dies down soon enough, so I wouldn’t be such an island.
I pray these words somehow crawl though the wires and find their way to your heart. But chances are, they are just as weak as
me.
You burnt the house, but you had forgotten I was in it, but still at that very moment, ...between my two lungs, I loved you.

...I've stopped waiting.

You, used to be my magic, are now my exit wound.

 

 

Written by, Alia.