what is it that cries out at your ear at night, perched on your shoulder and regurgitating strained hisses? it often has a deep throaty voice, as if it physically hurts to hurt you too, which you both know is a lie. you’re the only one suffering here. what is it that singles you out in a crowd, stepping on your toes yet sweeping you off your feet? how come you never gained familiarity, when it gashes its teeth onto your forehead when it kisses you, as if it reminds you that all kindness equates to some form of selfish motive?
oh, how naive you are to laugh again and again when every smile is a poisonous one
“don’t,” it says when you’re finally ready to toss the dice. “every side is unworthy.”
how little you knew of what that actually meant. it consumes your every parcel of a mind, but you refuse to acknowledge it - you refuse to think of him. oh, how you even refuse to call it “him” because you’re unsure if he was ever a person who existed at all - or because you want to be sure he never did - and you just want to forget
it still sings, and it’s supposed to distract you from abandoning its memory, but its husky voice just chases away your sanity. it still plays and fools around, and it’s supposed to remind you of how you’ve been unthinking, of how you’ve been misguiding yourself, but it makes you happier to know it’s been a part of you at all. yet once it disappears from your shadow, you cry - and then laugh because you remind yourself,
“it’s unworthy… it’s unworthy.”
after all, he’s just your yesterday
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