​Pieces of me 

lie in splinters on

this dusty 

ground- nobody

has made

an effort to erase

my remnants 

from this floor. Yet. 

The key to 

self harm lies in knowing

how to hide it,

in knowing that nobody 

looks at a

supposedly happy person’s 

arms. Or legs. 

Nobody checks a pious 

brat’s veins for 

drugs- this world is about 

appearances. Not

reality. Pieces of me have 

laid here

since last Wednesday and

I don’t blame 

anyone. Why would they want

to come near 

my filthy personality when I can’t 

stand it myself?


​I don’t know what to compare

you to anymore- all I can think of

is how you’re slipping through

my hands quicker than I can 

catch you, how you’re disappearing

like the wind racing across the 

world, how you’re flying away- and 

there’s nothing I can do about it.


​Take a dash of callousness, pair

it with a bit of self righteousness

and add a spoonful of ego, a cup

of stupidity, maybe even some

sprinkles of ignorance, cowardice

and idiocy; that’s all it takes to

build someone like you now days.


I had forgotten what it felt like to

fade, to dissipate into the wind and

I guess you forgetting showed me 

how that feels again. How it feels

to be slowly left in the dust, to 

be of the utmost unimportance- 

This is what it feels like to be 

forgotten. It feels like waking up

at 2am and realising that you 

still hadn’t remembered, it feels 

like dull throb of doubt about

every conversation we’ve ever

had, it feels like being invisible. 

Self righteousness, cowardice, ego

Every word you said buried you

deeper into the ground but 

funnily enough, I could feel the 

dirt at my neck- I’m not sure

what this metaphor means, maybe

something about how you lied to

me just to salvage what was left 

of your pride and now I’m the 

one that feels left for dead, maybe

something about you dragging 

me into a grave just to hide your

mistakes, maybe something about

how you just refused to own up.

Stupidity, ignorance, idiocy

I’m not even sure how to react

to this wreck- how does someone

like you create a mess like this?

The problem is not one but three,

the mistake is not one but many,

and you are just incorrigible. If

I put your forgetfulness down to 

stupidity, would I be lying to

myself? Would I be ignoring the

actual cause, would I just end 

up succumbing to my idiocy like

I believed you did?


I still can’t believe that you forgot,

that you tried to hide your 

mistake, that you forgot, that you

forgot, that you forgot. The 

word almost trails after me now, 

taunting me with your name, 

taunting me with reminders of

your blunder, taunting me with 

you. You. You. What happened

to all the conversations we had?

What happened to you actually 

being here? I guess I’ve forgotten 

why I’m still sticking around, I

guess this is my cue to make 

a mistake, and blame it on my

foolishness. You. You. You-

you forgot, and I should’ve known

you would. I should’ve known.