“I hope my words cradle your fall. You’re sitting in my ribs, writing on my breathing walls. I feel you move, my throat’s a hall. I’m not sure that it’s meaningless, I’m not sure that it’s meaningful.”

Your tears rolled down your face without expression, so I handed you some scar tissue to absorb this lesson. I once would have taken you inside of me and protected you from the human world. My words a tourniquet to your gushing death wish that always found a way to quench my thirst. My tonality can be wrapped around your neck like a necklace of comfort or a noose. So don’t get too comfortable sitting in my warm, warm lungs because my words I gave you are sharpening into daggers that I will not hesitate to stab through my chest just to end you. I may have been and still may be your safe place, but please don’t forget how dangerous I am. If you forget, that’s when you’ll get hurt the worst. You know what, forget.

Art Photography Poetry Writing Piece

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