Kicked in the Ribs

Yeah, it's been some time - for you five people who actually give a shit. Here you go.

And if you could only see the lurid purple that blossoms across my chest, the painful splothces that pervade my skin - their presence only a mark of how badly it hurts, how badly I hurt you. Just like the mirror you spoke of, it rebounded back, slamming my body against the wall, sliding to the floor - ragged breath, jagged breath, and not the way I care to remember it. Such a jagged gorgeous winter this will be - like that mirror, broken glass frosted over with icy breaths. So cold, such a state of mind, and they told me it was the right thing. I guess they lied. I can feel your skin, so hot, but it cannot melt this granite pride. Those fingertips just burn against my ribs, setting my flesh afire. Can you feel that? I did this to you. God, I did this to myself. This torment, this burning, aching fever touch. I thought it would hurt, but never dreamed it could be this much. This stone, this dead weight in my chest, this reason? Take the damn thing, I don't want it back. Just leave me be. Seether silent, anguish alone. I'm no martyr, bitch, not masochistic. I had my reasons, pitiful as they now seem to be. They pale before this feral ache. I know you've seen the scars, they'll never heal, but you wont see this suffering; I beseech the stars that you'll never know. Beyond power of speech - the phone lays silent as these words fill up pages. My body shakes - to the beat of my icily deadened heart, to the beat of the bass blaring into my bare soles, my bare soul. Don't look, don't you dare touch me. Numbness, take me! I can bear your fiery touch no more. Take these pills, let it wash over me. Leave me on the other shore. They said it wouldn't hurt. They lied.