day SIX HUNDRED and SIXTY FOUR

I Didn't Want to Survive

Life may be unimaginable
without those great battles
we fight with ourselves.
The war inside fought
against our hearts and minds,
tears in our eyes, begging
forgiveness, for the love
we swear to deserve and
cherish, for that which
keeps our bodies warm and
comforted at night,
for all that has been lost
to never be found again along the way.
Life may never be the same,
may never be unquestionably good
or without pain. The car crashes
and thoughts thrown like ashes
through the windshield, the dark
and silent moment
where there's nothing left
to fight for. When there's
nothing more that could damage
anything that may remain intact.
Shattered little beings just
crashing into one another
screaming out in agony as our
lies to ourselves uncover
no skin left to shed. Little bleeding
hearts with pulpy beats on the pavement
pounding out our songs to the world
and praying to God or someone to hear and
push our trampled hearts back from
whence they came, deep in the dark
and deep within our chests. Our little selves
with sockets empty and raw from the war
so large they seem to be all we're made of.
A walking, talking, gaping hole with no
recollection of how to breathe or think
and our world crushed underfoot as we sit,
staring at our broken hearts on the floor
after being thrown back at ourselves with the
comet-tail of others' judgment. We sit
watching it beat back against the rain
trying to wash it clean. Red light pouring from
the street as cars rush past, hurrying to crash
into others and splatter their own lives
onto the street. Watching everything rush past.
Watching. And waiting
for the world to change.

- Cristina Kennington