One Letter(No Apology)

No.

No more.

I'm filled now, with more sorry's than I could ever use. I think that may be enough.

It was just such a lovely gesture, on your behalf, to send me such scripted letters

and confess through ink and paper,

black and white,

something that was so grey.

It was a beautiful touch, I thought, to place the undying love you claimed to have,

onto the same pages

you named my replacements.
I am, I have to admit, thoroughly impressed by the way you can mutilate an apology
a thousand ways,
never repeating the same line twice.
You were able to, so magnificently, decay any dignity our chapter had left.
But who needs actions, when you have words?

I never thought I'd be the one to write to you,
I never thought I would be the one to carve it out with such strength.
I guess I was sick of being stuck between the river and the tree trunk.

Stop sending me thoughtless flowers.

(Your love was the most thoughtless thing of all)

City Walled.

This two caravan town makes sure the world stays flat,

bleed your fever boy, bleed it the fuck out.

Wind travels through just to whisper there is no change,

the clocks only tick to tell there is no future.

It's always noon,

so you better fucking pray boy, only Jesus sees the good in you.

Wiry fences gape, just to show there ain't no world out there,

birds stretch their wings and sing about no freedom.

That bitch can't seem to hold her glass,

with marks all down her goddamn sunday dress.
The radio only works to scream that noone's got nothing to say,
that bastard kid just born, crying, 'cos he knows he ain't gonna leave.

Keep your head 'bout you boy, books wont feed dirty mouths.
This town weren't meant for passing through.
You can jump on those fucking trampolines all you like,
you ain't ever getting over them city walls.

I Fucking Don't.

I'm committing suicide by centimetres,
killing myself in increments.
Like a finale that I did not even contemplate

until I began to contemplate it.

Tulle is creeping further up my neck

trying to pry open my mouth,

trying to drown my lungs in pearls and ribbon,

trying to crush my innards with taffeta and lace.

The entire time, I have never taken my eyes off of you.
But the rest of me,
oh god,
the rest of me.

I gave up the remainder yesterday,
I threw away the last piece before I slipped into my cold sheets
and warm whisky.
It was an exquisite deception, I can say now.

A perfectly executed slaughter, 

just like you said it would be.

Supple and seamless.
Calm and angelic.

Fractured and sutured.