do not come here for salvation

Do not come here looking for salvation.

Do not shuffle your feet across my threshold with your dripping blood.

Do not come here with your vacant eyes and desperate, aching hands.

I am not your fresh start, your second chance, your honeyed salve.

I refuse to spend days cleaning up the blood others have left in my doorway.

I refuse to spend months coaxing the light back into their eyes.

I will not watch another person walk out that door with my heart in their hands.

I refuse to hobble outside and pick it back up again – where they’ve left it, dropped it.

Unwanted, always unwanted – bloodied, and bruised, and too soft to the touch. Too much give.

I refuse to hurt for the sake of another’s healing.

There’s a blade where my tongue once was.

A trap door under the welcome mat.

And I will not hesitate to pull the lever.

Do not come here looking for salvation.