I dont need no more chances,
to rid you off my hand
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 brake  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
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….