I’ll stand over my bed my mind
Like a fucking idiot pacing the side
worrying about how I should make
it before I leave for work. I stand
there with tears filling my eyes,
my hands shaking like an addict
about how I need to please you
before you find out I’m being a
I need to make sure its made
before I leave for work or else…..
Before I finish my thought I
think to myself? Or else fucking
what? You’re going
to yell at me for not making the
fucking bed? Are you going to also
sit there and go on a fucking rant
reminding how I’m not shit? Are
You going to go on a fucking rant
about the fucking coke cans again?
Are you gonna come out the closet and
call me a slob? Withhold sex from
me as a punishment again? Make
me feel like shit like you did every
fucking day for months?
Or else fucking what? No seriously or
else fucking what? I can do whatever
the fuck I please and make my bed
whenever the fuck I feel like it. I’m
tired of coming home and having anxiety
Attacks over leaving my coke cans by
The fucking sink. I’m tired of feeling
Your voice cutting through my brain
Giving me a splitting headache as
You belittle me over not folding the
Fucking laundry. How grateful I
Should be that you let me move in.
I still have to pop Xanax anytime
I have to be anywhere near your
fucking vicinity. My hands shake,
my lungs cave, tears stain my
clothes, my heart drops to my
feet and every hostile memory of
you making me feel like I’m just a
piece of shit comes rushing back
to me like a riptide and it gives me
a fucking migraine.
I check my shoulder every 5
minutes I’m out I public in the
eye of those who judge me the most.
I think of choking you to keep my mind
calm enough to order my fucking Starbucks.
How the fuck did I let you in so deep?
I hate how much you ruined my mind.
I spend so much my fucking time digging
you out of my skin, I’m tired of bleeding
all over the fucking floor. I’m tired of cleaning
my dignity off the fucking wood floors.
I’m tired of bruising my knees as I scrub
what you’ve done to me off my skin. I let
you bury me alive for far too long,
enough is fucking enough.
I feel bad for the next girl you’re
going to ruin because after years,
its clear as fuck you haven’t changed
a fucking bit. You’re still a shit person
and shit people deserve nothing.
You’ll get by while I get better because
you never learn from your fucking
mistakes and love to blame others
for your own piss poor behavior.
Guess what? We’re sick of it. We’re
sick of your shit and jokes on you
there’s strength in numbers.
I wrote this fucking letter to make
sure you know what actual pain you
caused me, because everyday I wake
up feeling the fucking same. You could
never accept anyone at their worst.
You don’t deserve anyone at their fucking best.
Fuck making my bed. Fuck not feeling
like my best isn’t enough. And fuck you.