when the moon...

....grows acidic to the eyes....

“My parents spent over a decade with their
fingers intertwined, serving as a shield for
one another to take cover behind when the 
world threw punches that could crack skulls
and shatter spirits. Over time, their grip
wavered, thus resulting in what their hearts
once housed so delicately to vanish.
I was born into warm arms, welcomed into
a house built by calloused hands that were
later used to grab at throats. My heart soon
grew exhausted of the crass insults thrown
off of tongues like blessings and instead
shut down, constructing walls in order to
deflect their brutal sting.
Comfort came to me in the eyes of someone
who made a monument of my broken body,
who healed wounds on my wrists like they
were mere paper-cuts. I stood on cliffs and
they pulled me back by the collar of my 
shirt, spinning me around and forcing a kiss
upon my lips that caused me to hug the
ground my feet stood on, promising to never
try and leap from it again.
But time causes people to grow bored and I
was not an exception to its cruel ways. 
I never saw those eyes look at me with wanderlust
overtaking them at the sight of my form, nor
did I ever understand what was wrong with me
to cause them to walk away. I thought I could
do the same too; they made it look so easy 
after all. So I let myself become a drug to 
addicts whose veins I never wanted to flow
through but it gave me purpose, so I continued.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel comfortable in
someone else’s arms again.”