“Mistake”
smoke of my hallucinations. of you. all that remains.
but it’s the worst rush of my life.
it feels like it never began at all.
I coddle what is left to ruminate.
it’s whatever you gave to me in shards
that slashed my skin and added jagged scars.
when the knife pricked my fingertip
I forgave you.
my torment exists to be tolerated. not weakened.
what I need in satisfaction proves to be disheartening.
there’s hunger for solace in the disparity.
if it never chooses to define itself, it’s volatile. I’m satiated.
deep down you’re also a lost cause.
but I know the uneasiness. it’s a habit.
and the cycle will start once more.
maybe you’ll continue to mutilate me,
and I’ll allow you.
and label it my own mistake. again.
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