Are band-aides big enough?

It’s a bit past spring

spring cleaning that is,

and I’m sweeping;

Sweeping up, sweeping away

every last vestige

of you.

And oh god, it hurts.

Did you know

how much it hurt

when you left?

You were my scab,

as bad as that sounds.

You were thick and tough,

and you clung to my skin

keeping in the bleeding,

hiding my wounds.

And too soon, too soon,

you ripped yourself off and

away you fluttered,

slowly at first

because I could still see you,

and then

out of sight you fell,

gone in the wind.

So I grew a new scab,

it blossomed where you left off,

and as time went on

your voice faded from my mind

and a shiny layer of scar tissue

is all I’ve got left of where you used to be.

Never expect, less than FIERCE.

You have no idea of

how brutal I want to be;

feed you the pain you dealt me,

send shock waves up and down your body.

Hopefully they’ll reach your brain and

electrify you

maybe make you start to think again.

I want to ravage my sanity

break loose

like the noose you had wrapped

right ‘round my neck,

your security blanket if I ever got too close.

My fingers are in fists and
oh how I want to hit you

break your bones and your face

A physical painting of every time

you grabbed my heart and squeezed

and layered bruises over your old ones.

I want to be vicious,

and toy with your pain, play with it,

like you played with my head...

sending me farther and farther down to the ground,

where I never belonged.

It was always you, who rose above the squalor,

mistaking the necks of those around you

as a stairway to your heaven.

Your throne was risen to the clouds

on the backs of men and women,

raising you much higher than

you could have ever gotten on your own.

You are the thorn in my side

that has crippled me from day one,

and I alone rejoice, for you have been dislodged,

discarded and useless,

for the day has risen

and without you,

I stand tall and proud,

finally

unhindered.