Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

old friend

I’ve known you all my life

Grown used to the way your skin ripples and twists

How your face looks just like mine

Your claws digging into my throat as you hold me a little too tightly

The way you rub my back as I bend over and spill my guts

Telling me, well, what would be worse?

To survive this or to die?

Until it is easier to not, to not want things, to not want to try

You took and you stole and you filled me with chemicals

And like, people say you should let go of things that hurt you

But darling, what am I without you?

Who could I be?

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