How to Stay Alive
Don’t even start it.
Don’t give her the chance
nobody else gave her,
even if she deserved it.
(By the way, she didn’t.)
Don’t give her the chance
to show herself,
and if you do,
don’t be surprised
when what you see
shreds your soul to pieces.
If it looked bad on the surface,
why would the core it comes from
conceive anything different?
Don’t be tempted
by what you think you see.
Don’t fall for that.
Don’t you know better?
Don’t ask.
Don’t make plans.
Don’t follow through.
Don’t you know
that you will lose that time
and you will lose that person
and you might just lose yourself?
Don’t you know
that none of those things
will ever come back?
Don’t share secrets.
Don’t tell her
about the boxes
hidden under your bed
where you keep
all the things that hurt you
to look at.
Don’t you know
that one day soon--
very soon--
you will add
the card she made you
for Christmas?
Don’t share traumas.
Don’t tell her
about the girl
who had given up on you
months before you realized
while you kept shoveling
everything you had
into trying to convince her
that there were beautiful things
inside of her.
Don’t you know
she's only listening
because she knows
her exit will sever deeper
into that same gaping hole
that hasn’t healed?
Don’t you know
that some people listen
just so they know
the best way to hurt you?
Don’t share fears.
Don’t tell her
the reason you hate people
and hate the world
is really because
you’re scared
of all the pain
it can inflict upon you.
Don’t you know
that she’s not scared
to drive the knife
a little deeper
and push the hatred
a little harder?
Don’t share dreams.
Don’t tell her
that all you’ve ever really wanted
was to help people,
to be there for people,
to make life
a little more understandable,
and a little less miserable,
even if it’s only
for one person.
Don’t you know
that you could save her
from every cruel-intentioned person
who ever existed,
and she would still
rip a hole inside of you
that leaks nothing but the misery
you’re trying so hard to heal?
Don’t share your bed.
Don’t let yourself
subconsciously scoot
all the way to the wall
to leave an empty space
in the shape of a human being
who will never be there again.
Don’t you know
that empty space
will remain there forever,
even when she’s forgotten
the shape of your body
and the smell of your sheets?
Don’t know you
that people like her
leave emptiness
wherever they go?
Don’t share yourself.
Don’t share anything.
Don’t you know better by now?
Don’t take pictures.
Don’t save the chats.
Don’t make a playlist.
Don’t make memories.
Don’t hit call,
and don’t answer.
Don’t hit send,
and don’t respond.
Don’t write that note,
and don’t check your mail.
Don’t make promises,
and don’t believe them either.
Don’t think.
Don’t think she loves you,
don’t think she cares about you,
don’t think she’ll be there for you,
don’t think she’ll mean anything she says,
don’t think.
Don’t convince yourself
this will be different.
Don’t convince yourself
it’ll be ok if it isn’t.
Don’t believe
this time it won’t hurt.
Don’t believe
she’d never do anything to hurt you.
Don’t believe
that she loves you.
Don’t believe in love.
Don’t believe in anything.
And whatever you do--
whatever godforsaken thing you do--
don’t hold on.
Rip your fingertips
off your palms and realize
they were empty all along.
Holding on to nothing
is the quickest way to kill yourself.
Don’t give her the chance
nobody else gave her,
even if she deserved it.
(By the way, she didn’t.)
Don’t give her the chance
to show herself,
and if you do,
don’t be surprised
when what you see
shreds your soul to pieces.
If it looked bad on the surface,
why would the core it comes from
conceive anything different?
Don’t be tempted
by what you think you see.
Don’t fall for that.
Don’t you know better?
Don’t ask.
Don’t make plans.
Don’t follow through.
Don’t you know
that you will lose that time
and you will lose that person
and you might just lose yourself?
Don’t you know
that none of those things
will ever come back?
Don’t share secrets.
Don’t tell her
about the boxes
hidden under your bed
where you keep
all the things that hurt you
to look at.
Don’t you know
that one day soon--
very soon--
you will add
the card she made you
for Christmas?
Don’t share traumas.
Don’t tell her
about the girl
who had given up on you
months before you realized
while you kept shoveling
everything you had
into trying to convince her
that there were beautiful things
inside of her.
Don’t you know
she's only listening
because she knows
her exit will sever deeper
into that same gaping hole
that hasn’t healed?
Don’t you know
that some people listen
just so they know
the best way to hurt you?
Don’t share fears.
Don’t tell her
the reason you hate people
and hate the world
is really because
you’re scared
of all the pain
it can inflict upon you.
Don’t you know
that she’s not scared
to drive the knife
a little deeper
and push the hatred
a little harder?
Don’t share dreams.
Don’t tell her
that all you’ve ever really wanted
was to help people,
to be there for people,
to make life
a little more understandable,
and a little less miserable,
even if it’s only
for one person.
Don’t you know
that you could save her
from every cruel-intentioned person
who ever existed,
and she would still
rip a hole inside of you
that leaks nothing but the misery
you’re trying so hard to heal?
Don’t share your bed.
Don’t let yourself
subconsciously scoot
all the way to the wall
to leave an empty space
in the shape of a human being
who will never be there again.
Don’t you know
that empty space
will remain there forever,
even when she’s forgotten
the shape of your body
and the smell of your sheets?
Don’t know you
that people like her
leave emptiness
wherever they go?
Don’t share yourself.
Don’t share anything.
Don’t you know better by now?
Don’t take pictures.
Don’t save the chats.
Don’t make a playlist.
Don’t make memories.
Don’t hit call,
and don’t answer.
Don’t hit send,
and don’t respond.
Don’t write that note,
and don’t check your mail.
Don’t make promises,
and don’t believe them either.
Don’t think.
Don’t think she loves you,
don’t think she cares about you,
don’t think she’ll be there for you,
don’t think she’ll mean anything she says,
don’t think.
Don’t convince yourself
this will be different.
Don’t convince yourself
it’ll be ok if it isn’t.
Don’t believe
this time it won’t hurt.
Don’t believe
she’d never do anything to hurt you.
Don’t believe
that she loves you.
Don’t believe in love.
Don’t believe in anything.
And whatever you do--
whatever godforsaken thing you do--
don’t hold on.
Rip your fingertips
off your palms and realize
they were empty all along.
Holding on to nothing
is the quickest way to kill yourself.