I Thought Losing You Would Kill Me, But It Made Me Born Again


Here lies a wandering mind, that craved the uncertain, fought for what others let slip away, and dreamt in vibrant color. Here lies a heart that beat feverishly, seizing to quit until it was finally drained of all its contents. A heart weathered from the ups and downs of love­ superficial, insincere love. Here lies lungs that gripped onto the last remnants of oxygen, which were uprooted from my hollow chambers. Here lies fragmented bones, sucked of all their marrow. Bones still wet and cold from the vigor of your tongue. You stripped me of everything I used to be, then you killed me.

You painted me in black and white. You shielded me from seeing your true self, and mine.

You left your fingerprints on my windpipe, as you gripped my neck with a firm hand. You consumed me. You made yourself my everything. You never took off the mask. Never exposed your cynicality. You killed me, then revived me. Then you killed me.

But you did not truly kill me. You killed the little girl riddled with naivety. The little girl with the dusty clouds that swarmed her eye sockets. The little girl who lost her grip on reality and spiraled into a realm of illusion. The little girl who gripped onto your hand, unaware of the knife entangled in the other. The little girl who flipped her skin inside out to expose every part of herself to you. The little girl who was way too old to think like a little girl. You killed that girl.

But I am reborn now. My mind still wanders and my heart beats with such an intense and undeniable velocity. My heart does not ache, it instead yearns for an exposed type of love. A deep, stripped down to the core type of love. My lungs inhale deeply, and exhale completely. My bones have strength again. And I am me. A me I have never felt before. I am human.

Dig deep under your fingertips, and you will find the old me there. Bite your nails, just so you can taste me one last time.

Whisper into deaf ears until you lose your voice. Look into blind eyes and understand that the girl you used to hold in the palm of your hand is merely a corpse. Make lackluster love to the shell that is the old me, one last time. Kiss blue lips, dripping your midnight tar onto them. Burn my flesh with your touch, just so you can realize that I will never flinch. Drink my blood. Sip it slowly. Savor the taste of what you have always wanted, but will never have. Because you never came close to experiencing the real me.

Let your palms dance across my molted sheath. Watch as I crumble to nothing. Let me decompose in your arms. Grip onto the remains of my tendrils, as I will never again feel your touch. You killed me so you could own me. Claim me. Explore all of the intricacies of my body, without my control.

But the body in your hand is not me. That girl is translucent. Exposed. She wholeheartedly peeled apart each layer of herself, until she became skeletal. Trace your finger around the rim of my orbital. Drag it down my mandible. Pry my canines, and incisors, and molars from the inside of my mouth. Let my blood soak into your fingerprints. Leave your mark on the old me. Because the real me cannot feel you anymore.