It seems lately all my apologies have turned into “please don’t leave” and I never thought being on my own knees would ever mean begging I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry my head works this way, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m asking you to please stay except it never comes out that way.
It comes out “I’m too fucked up” and “haven’t you had enough” and “why would someone like you even love someone like me?” who am I to ask someone to stay when all I’ve ever done is leave and who am I to push you away when all you do is miss me.
I have too many questions about the softness of your hand and why they don’t callous after touching me and why reaching always means holding when you’ve seen just how bad the inside of me can be. I can’t remember the last time I cleaned the skeletons out from under my bed, all I know is they are only there because I keep going over their memory to death.
Don’t you know how terrible I used to be? I know you’ve heard the one about the other boy and the one about the drinking and the one about the broken mirrors and I know it seems all my stories end in leaving but sometimes I don’t even show up in the first place.
You can’t leave if you don’t go somewhere you have to walk away from but I’ve crossed that line so often sometimes I think I’m still walking. On nights, you’re asleep before me I can’t stop moving my feet knowing I have nowhere to and no one to meet. It’s almost suffocating all this vulnerability.
I used to say I always have a backup plan so that when you break someone’s heart you don’t have to pick up any of the pieces or even look at them long enough to see the blood and this is the first time I have nothing to run from. I used to think heartbreak was something you make yourself get over until I let you hold me without supporting myself and if I let go there’s nowhere to fall that means safe landing.
I’m a mess and I haven’t figured out how to clean up and you could be cliché, you could say you love my mess but I know you mean you love cleaning so what happens when you can’t scrub the blood? What happens when I’m still bleeding? My chest is an echo of all the things I’ve done that I wish I could forget and you wonder why I can’t get over them.
I have become a broken record, skipping every part of the song where I leave but stuck on the line that asks, “what if it finally happens to me?” you tell me this is where you’re supposed to be so why can’t I stop trying to make you leave? I mastered the art of pushing with both hands a long time ago but now I have one hand holding yours and no idea how to let go.
The voice in my head is saying stop and the one in my mouth is screaming go, get away, you’re just going to leave me one day. We’re stuck at a crossroads and the traffic lights are lit up all three colours, I can’t see the road and sometimes you’re in the passenger seat but sometimes you’re in the other car.
I know the only way you’d ever drive away is if I gave you the keys and they are still hidden somewhere inside of me but that hasn’t stopped me from filling the tank. I once said you should always love someone who doesn’t own a suitcase and you unpacked them all the day you met me so why can’t I stop folding your clothes?
I keep saying that one day you’ll be gone because I don’t know how to deal with the fact that this is it. Maybe there’s no more heart break and no more first dates and no more having to wait, it’s just this. You and me, for as long as it last and we’re both hoping that means till we’re too old to speak.
What do you do when everything in your chest is screaming at you to stay but your mouth won’t connect and won’t shut up and keeps repeating “I’ m too fucked up, just leave” when all I want to say is “please come home to me, please just stay.”