Damaged Goods

“there is no shame in crying in an empty room, the walls will keep in what you cannot”

I am empty as this room now.

I am hollow as your eyes; empty as your words and solace finds me no where I would wish for you to look. I lay on my back (as I always have) my stomach sinks to my spine and I am as spineless as you are.

I blame no one but myself for my misgivings, blame everyone but myself for my misleading and you, I blame only for making me feel almost good enough. This is the real tragedy here.

I miss the simpler times. When all we worried about was hair, make-up and lacing a corset tighter than our lungs could take, we did not need to come up for air; heart ache did not touch us and we did not cry for the men who do not love us. We kept our fantasies locked up tight in our laces. We gave only what they needed and never wanted more. We taught ourselves this was enough. They would never have us and we would never want them to.
Standing tall, at a forty-five degree angle; you’re half way there and in your naiveté, you do not understand how hard the landing will be without someone to catch you.
There is gauze to stop the bleeding, band aids to hide the cuts and drugs to numb the pain, but nothing; not one little thing to stop these tears from tearing you apart.

We convinced ourselves it was enough. We didn’t need to love or be loved; this was all we needed.

Now you have no choice; no man would want you now. Smeared make up, chipped nail polish, hollowed from the inside out. We never learned to breathe and this breaking in my heart leaves me gasping for the air you have taken from me.