That night you looked at me and said confront...

I'm going to lay it out for you.


There are
far too many holes in
what used to be human
what used to be a woman
to focus on more holes.

Let me lie and
lick my wounds before
pouring the salt from your lips into them.

Because nothing scrapes and hurts
quite so much as you
and the honesty dripping from your tongue
you know,
that tongue that i like to feel on mine.
that tongue that has
been more places than you're willing to claim
as explored, as yours.

and no, i can't lie about this,
not to you,
because I love you.
Dearly, harshly,
fiercely,
in the only wounded way I know how,
I love you.
but it will never be enough.

And that's just one of those things
those things you say I'm afraid of confronting,
one of those things I'll say to you
before this night is through.
I have nothing to give,
I have no love,
so the world around me
seems without a doubt
warmer than my own arms.

And
let me abuse my body
let me fill it with
enough poisons to forget

let me
drink up to drown
those voices in my throat
screaming out against the way you make me feel in your arms

let me kill the parts of me that
still feel
so I don't care when
that boy kisses me
in front of you

it's the same parts of me
that don't feel a thing
when i look at him,
when I look at myself.

Somedays I forget that
I feel anything at all
until I look at you
and I know,
at least if it hurts,
I'm alive.

and it always does.

and I know,
I know.
Nothing in you
could ever love
a thing like me
I know.

So please,
let me get this out.
Let me tell you,
in a confrontation to kill what's left,
I would love you if I could.
and I know you would never love me
because...
you have yet to give me a good enough reason to make me think you would never love me.

Since pain is my most powerful sense,
please,
if you want to be my friend,
try your very best to destroy me.

I spent all my life begging
not to be hit,
touched,
fucked,
sucked,
licked,
hurt,
and scarred.
And tonight I'm confronting what I need
and that's pain, from your hand.

I will use that as my reason to forget you, to cleanse my mind of you, and the drugs, and the sex, and the need for anything. When I know that you, my dear friend who does not love me, will never love me, I'll know.
It's ok then. It will all be ok.

I want you to make my place known to me. What is it exactly that I deserve? I'm putting myself in your hands, as I have on so many other nights, and asking you to deem me worthy, with the full knowledge that I never will be, that I never can be. That I am flawed and fucked up and out of love. I'm out of love, babe. I can't make it come out of nowhere, I have none to give you, I don't know if I'll ever be in love again and that's a fucked up thing to know about yourself. And nothing anyone can say will change that or make it hurt any less.
But, oh...pain. Welling up just enough to leak onto my cheeks and leave me. The only constant I feel, but at least I feel it.