Slices of pain

I know my pain is not interesting to you.

I know you look upon my tears as a annoying burden.

You slice up my heart like it were a bloodless, lifeless tomb.

You sliced me up and I stitched myself back together.

I do not know how to make perfect, straight, tiny stitches.

I am still falling apart.

As I stand here, I am very whole in matter.

In mind, I am shattered.

I know you do not think I am good.

I would rather dissipate into nothingness than feel like this.

I know matter cannot truly be destroyed. No, not really.

I only wish I was obliterated, a nothing, a blank.

Slices of pain that I feel radiating throughout that ache of my own existence,

I go to make dinner, I put my love for you in it.

It’s done.

I’m done.

Did I burn the meal? Did you place poison in my ear?

It’s all a metaphor, darling,

Don’t go crying wolf

When you are the reflection of it’s baring teeth, all for show.

Slices of you on my face.

You are stitched together with my sweet smile,

You are here with me,

Sliced up, an embodiment of pain.

We are merely sliced up truths in a sea of lies,

And you gladly swim

You painfully swim

While I slowly drown

The salty sea seeping

Into my cracks

“Yes, I’ll make dinner.”