The proper thing, 

for me, for you 

To throw away

You, for me



You took the pain

You made the stain

It always hurts 

before the dawn



Flowing crimson, cramp and thorn

Rent and bane, a week of wailing

Hate that crumbles, soaking deep

Bloating micro-fibers red



Used to keep our insides in

Used to hide my crusted gashes

Used to heap up all your dead

Inside my head, my fingers burning.



But you were clean and tightly woven

I pressed you underneath my skin

Didn’t know. What was your purpose

It just felt right. And so very wrong.



To use you.

But didn’t you also use me too?

To fill you up while you were barren

And now it overflows.



Used to take away the pain 

Now every word uncertain.

I wonder where the fuck you’ve been

Starting now to bleed. Again. 



Gushing problems, failing tears

But tears should make it better

But they only make me bitter

From my insides falling out



Can you clot

When things wont stop

When you forgot

My name.



Ignore, your bore, restore my soul 

Why are you asking questions?



Used to be your bloody rags

Who do you say I am?

Swelled and dripping from the center

The center of my being. 



Who do you say I am?

I guess I’m used.



For you.