I remember.
I remember.
I remember.
I remember the bone shattering sound of his breath.
And my breath.
And the muscles that ran up his spine like smoke.
I remember the “almost” and “maybes” of never being good enough.
I remember all the wars inside myself.
I remember waking up to, “You’re broken. You need help.”
And in that moment, my universe and all my pieces were exposed.
I remember hating myself.
I remember looking at his wrists and my wrists and thinking how they looked so perfect together in a
world so full of hate.
I remember August 27th. It was raining.
I remember how much he loved hating me. And how much I hated loving him.
I remember how my bones screamed inside of me when you touched me.
How I smothered them with a pile of skin that didn’t feel like mine, just to keep them quiet.
But that skin got heavy. And my bones weren’t strong enough anymore.
I remember looking in the mirror and wishing on all the stars that I didn’t have to be me.
I remember the burning in my throat and how my hands were shaking and my heart got cold.
There was so much blood and acid.
I remember the morning I woke up covered in nightmares.
He smelled of coffee, cigarettes, and s i l e n c e.
And he was beautiful.
I remember all the sad poems she wrote.
How she ran out of things to keep herself numb.
I remember how we owned the sky, and nothing could touch the paint in our universe.
We were beautiful accidents made in hell, and we found a place to breathe.
And that was all that mattered.
Until now.
Dear friend,
I don't exactly know how this works, but I heard that you listen.
I've been thinking.
About tragedies and beautiful people.
And how they can sometimes be the same.
How she was a terribly real thing in a terribly false world.
I think that's why she was in so much pain,
even though no one knew.
Until now,
Sam.
