Sunday, 5 February 2017
You're not worth the ink I've spent trying to get you out of my system. The sleepless nights, tossing and turning, limbs twitching, because the ghost of your hands was hanging over my body. The ache, the ache, the ache. You're not worth the nights i've spent hating myself, making every fault of yours a fault of mine. The nights that I went through hugging my own body, curling up on my own self, the weight of arms that weren't there to hold me crushing my bones. My lonely nights, my sleepless night. The ache, the ache, the ache. But my dear, I assure you, I am worth all your sleepless nights and more. I am worth all the nights you spent tossing me over into your head, thinking what ugly picture to paint of me next. I am worth all the times you've turned me into a flood, running over everything, ruining and ruining. For I am chaos, a chaos so violent it shook you, and your roots weren't deep enough. I am a chaos so violent you mistook my light for fire, my breeze for a storm, and dear, your roots, they weren't strong enough.