After Attempted Self-Destruction Part 2:

he left you alone; right now you are alone; put him down before you take yourself out; friendships aren’t built on the bases of broken bridges; your ribs holding all his skeleton, before he breaks into you; he doesn’t want to break into you; stop feeding me lies; I’m sitting right next to you, wishing you’d stop cutting yourself out of this world; don’t be afraid of taking yourself home, to yourself; I’m tired of telling you what you know; stop closing your lips to kiss the feet of a friend that isn’t willing to move mountains for you; you need to stop building an empire from the rocks he’s destroyed you with; he won’t strip his mouth of his chains; he won’t swallow his heart for yours; now you sit; bleeding all the love he hasn’t given to you; think to yourself, are you living right now as you bleed next to this sink; put your razor down for him; not to rid yourself of him, but to stand against him; have you made love to your worth before losing it in others; I don’t think you realize the empty spaces you fill with your presence; you lie here, leaking from your insides, the death of your broken best friend; your body is a bible belt of suffocation; stop letting him win; beat him at his own game; love yourself, first, before he can; every day you sit in your mouth brain, addicted to the way he doesn’t think of you but only thinks for you; you are addicted to him; his warmth, all the drug you need to overdose on; you churched your body, held his bones, built a home within the drowning baptisms of his lost lovers; he loves her, not you; your soul is a basket garden of lost lenguas; funerals have turned into your favorite holidays; eulogies remind you that dying will make you human; you killed yourself again today, thinking of him; this is your cycle of light; you spend your time, living and dying for this man; you told him to spend his time, feasting in your lungs; your teeth, more courage than the bark in his bite; teach him your ways: wash, rinse, repeat; wash your body without scrubbing your worth off too hard; rinse your demons from living in the sins of your memories; repeat this until you are holy enough to stand in the mirror with the lights on, without cutting yourself; your best friend holds you by your tongue, running his fingers down your arms; now you sit, with a razor in your hand, debating whether you’re worthy of being enough or eulogy.