21

Standard

The tightening chest and the sunken stomach

The eight hour naps and mental health plummet

The panic attacks that have no cause

The boy that won’t commit because you’re too flawed

The test that returned with a mere 30 percent

The sex you had with questionable consent

Friends to lose and potential depleting 

The reaper might be a half decent meeting 

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High Maintenance 

Standard

Viscously sweet words stain your teeth when you speak to me
Different shades of concealer stain your white shirt when you leave
 Like the coffee you drink and the mud on your shoes,

Such astounding neglect to the mess you produce

That chip on your shoulder, the self proclaimed scar of lost love

An empty excuse for your bullshit, you’ve been through push and shove.

But you didn’t push me or shove me, like you claim she did to you.

You suffocated me, tore me apart, beat me black and blue.

You hitched me to the back of your car, and drove as far as you could,

Until the broken road took me, frayed the rope tied to your hood.

You stopped the car and saw I was more broken now than I was before,

And wondered why those viscously sweet words weren’t enough anymore.