Sometimes I miss things I shouldn't,
like partying with people who don't care about me
or putting crushed pills up my nose,
missing the drip down my throat.
The men who would touch me at night
and make me feel loved,
even when they didn't love me.
Running a fresh blade across my skin
and feeling the pinch, seeing the blood.
Doing it again and again until I tired.
Sleeping all day when I was so very sad,
in the cold air conditioned apartment,
under the covers, not getting up for anything.
Not even to feed my cats.
Walking into my favorite clothing store,
filling my arms with items, and knowing
that my wallet is empty
and so is my big purse,
I miss the way I only feel safe
in expensive psych wards.
The way he looked at me
and told me he wanted to be with me forever.
Missing insanity when I'm stable,
and then forgetting what stability feels like.

06/14/2017

Author's Note: Title in the works

Posted on 06/23/2017
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