seasonal (vent)

tw: abuse, death, trauma

how seasonal, her love is. the summer has sucked it dry. you chase the shimmering mirage of perfection, running until your lungs burn, your muscles scream, until black spots dance in your vision. your eyes sting from the sand in her words, leaking salt. her fist clenches around your heart. she carves in wounds to match her hurt. you love her, despite. you love her, because. you love her, and it is your ruin. you do not choose yourself.

but you're selfish, just a little. you see, she loves someone she wants you to be. you wish you could be that person. but you don't allow her to chisel you into perfection because individuality. the nerve of you.

you recall that lignocaine summer when you loved her with closed lids. love was always conditional, but the terms were easier before the update. now you hide like a rat in the bathroom and insulate the pain with tears, like water cleansing a bloody scrape. your chest heaves. your mouth gasps for air.

you recall that dream you had in which her neck was twisted at an angle only possible in cartoons. her asphyxiated body, mouth closing around air that wouldn't reach her lungs. her eyes looked through you to some distant point in the sky. she'd asked for water, but you couldn't move, and you watched her wither before you.

oh, what a curse it is to love someone who keeps hurting you. to caress a dagger pointed at your jugular vein. as it draws out the first drop of blood, you realise no one's coming to save you. it was your fault. the cavernous walls echo: worthless bitch. worthless bitch. worthless bitch.