Snakeskin

Curled up in your bed, silently crying tears no one will ever hear. 

I know how you feel. 
Drowning in books and booze and work, sedating yourself with other stories, other lives and other dreams, you square your shoulders and tighten your jaw and carry on. Or pretend. Same thing really.

Oh how i know how you feel. Lying awake shaking in your bed, fantasizing on what it could have been, asking yourself where it all went wrong as if it was all your fault, as if it was only up to you. When did you play that wrong card,  when did you lower your guard? BUt there was simply nothing left to say, you both ran your course.It’s admitting it that’s the bitch.
You go out and lose yourself in fake smiles and glitter, making your heels click with each wannabe victorious step that you take, blowing kisses above polished heads, taking in the admiring glances, embracing the envious stares, sealing off the cracks in your self esteem with strength found in others’ eyes.
Yet you get home dry from the pretence, tired from the act, eager to take the cloak of lies off, incongruous feelings of guilt and shame plaguing you, sticking to your damp sheets, unshakable.
Sinking in your solitude, revelling in it, you shy away from the world, declaring yourself on strike against false complacency, fake sympathy, half baked empathy. Hear no evil, see no evil, your raw soul simply could not take it, disappearing is all that matters and to hell with the offended comments and judgmental stares that pierce your back every time you pluck up the courage to venture out. 
I know how you feel. 
If only I could take a break from myself you say, if only I could become this nameless faceless shadow over there, oh what I’d give to leave my own skin behind for only a second of blissful oblivion. 
I know how you feel. 
Blurred by the smoke of your endless cigarettes, exhaling sharply as if to cleanse yourself from the never ending pain and razor blades grazing your stomach, you’ll sign your ticket to freedom with a hollowness to your heart and an acid drill in your gut, feeling the bitter ferruginous taste of your bile get caught up with your tears in your throat, choking you, a wave of emotions overtaking you, compelling you to surrender by its mighty force. Separation. The word hits you like the blade of a sword, torturing you like the slit tongue of a snake licking your wound with unspeakable slowness.
I know how you feel, I know, for I’ve been to these desolated realms and have emerged from them black and bruised but never broken.  
And I know you will too, you’ll slough your skin too. Just once the unbearable pain goes away.

 

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