people say i have a beautiful imagination. i used to love it, because everything around me has sparks of color and wonder no one else sees. it's all riddled with secret doorways and powdered light, and ricocheting through the hallways of my mind like a firecracker. sometimes i hate it though, because i imagine people as different from what they are. like you, because all you ever were was someone i should stay away from. i didn't see it though, because i saw all the shadows keeping you in and wished i could make them go. i have blood and rust too, i didn't judge you for that. you didn't see my mind or marrow, though, or any of the things that i see at all- you saw me and decided it was better to undo my sutures and fill it in with brine.
i wonder if you feel bad- feel bad for leaving me with my heart in my throat and the perpetual feeling of missing a stair walking down my staircase. i'm too tired to sleep. you occupied my head like a fever, drying everything up from the inside out and leaving something of a brittle hollow ringing all through my lungs. i can't warm up or get rid of the dehydration no matter how many clothes i put on. maybe you meant me to feel it all, or maybe you meant me to feel nothing. you want to know how much harder you need to push before i break?
not much harder.