tapiocastars

XIX

Words are the
best murder weapons.

After they pierce
your ears, your mind
masochistically 
wraps itself around
all the sharp edges
and harsh tones.

The shrapnel takes
many years to 
remove, and the
wounds reopen 
with a touch of 
recollection.

The worst part is that
seeking help can be
seen as shameful.
They have hospitals
for bullet wounds.
They have empty rooms
for verbal scarring. 

I Know Otherwise

Failed expectations are
painful because it’s like
making room on your
shelf of memories:

sticking on the label
clearing off the dust
waiting for the delivery
man 

but he never shows up. 

Opening your mouth to 
take a bite, and closing
your teeth on your tongue.

((You know it’s self-inflicted
pain, idiot))

Mourning what could have
been –>

((what never was is always
the last to leave))

Watching what you almost
mistook for a memory
walk away.

It doesn’t creep soundlessly
out the back door like a real
memory;

it stays the night and 
turns to look at you one
more time as it makes
its way out.

It never quite existed 
but neither did those monsters
in your closet.

You still heard them
scratching at night.