no more

I dont need, no more chances,
to rid you off my hands…
drip by drip,
red,
my hand writing,
already signed the dotted lined,
sealed,
delivered,
posted.
can you not say all those wicked things again,
please?
it was never supposed to be so complicated,
and the rules of conversation shouldn’t have to break over and over,
I do not need another night,
to disinfect you off my hands,
again,
the stained puddles on my bed sheets, weep,
does it not unhinge you slightly?
I cannot feel what once was felt,
and the temptation of re-entering what was once an exhausting yet beautiful place to be,
does not intise me anymore,
for the door closed,
over
and
over
I do not have the energy like I once did as a child,
the happy merry girl who once believed in fairy tale endings,
and mythical monsters,

she

no longer breathes..

nothing but a twitch,
wakes from the memories,
and the memories are quickly,
sown away into the rubble,
of the burt after math,
of a home,
I once imagined….

I do not need another night!
not one more day!
to rinse my hands!
rid my finger tips!
of plum red from my
peach skin,
the battle fought and lost long ago….

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