no beauty/no romance

1. no beauty

was it beautiful?

like sitting at a desk

riddled with indents from

keeping the scissors away from skin

rocking back and forth

with only one thing circling

through an addled mind

the overwhelming urge to die

feeling ready to write that final

chapter on a life barely lived

 

was it beautiful?

forty pills that seemed like

enough at the time

choked down with soda water

and so many built up tears

feeling the rot of depression

absorbing the medicine that was

supposed to make things better

goddammit

 

was it beautiful?

regretting waking up hours later

younger sibling in the next room

noticing the stumble

the swearing that came from

feeling organs clench and shatter

but nothing coming up

 

was it beautiful?

admitting to taking so many pills

tongue feeling shredded by the words

being asked to stay awake

but only feeling so much anger

at having failed

at waking up again

at still being alive

 

was it beautiful?

three psych wards

every time a voluntary check in

unable to stay safe

healing scars

bashing limbs against every hard surface

ripping open old wounds

both inside and out

there is nothing beautiful

in self destruction

 

2. no romance

was it romantic?

hospital beds and an iv

in the back of a shaking hand

monitored bathroom breaks

too many to count while a body

too young to feel so old

purged itself of so many toxins

 

was it romantic?

fingernails chewed down to nothing

ragged cuticles

raw and bloody knuckles

because those hurt just a little bit less

than constantly pulling open

scabbed over splits in

gnawed on lips

 

was it romantic?

looking for love to give to others

not leaving enough behind to keep

not caring about that

too busy wanting to go home

please fix this

make the hurt go away

make everything shiny and new again

 

was it romantic?

unable to find respite

from the mental onslaught

in the unmarred arms of another

because illness and depression

do not care about

kissing scars to heal them

or boxes of chocolate

or roses

or whispered “i love you”s

because life is not a

teen romance novel

 

was it romantic?

wanting to die

even while sitting next to

that person that made things

not hurt so bad

and feeling guilty about fresh cuts

fresh bruises

burn marks that could be explained

away as accidents

 

was it romantic?

mass media certainly seems to think so

here’s looking at you

john green and jay asher

because why should people have

struggles if they can’t be candy-coated

and wrapped up in neat little bows

with complementary

packets of tissues on the side

 

was it romantic?

smelling of blood

and sweat from so many nightmares and terrors

trembling and shaking

racked by guilt and anxiety

waiting for an ulcer

waiting for something to happen

to make it seem worthwhile

because in mental illness and trauma

there is no prince

no princess

no damsel in distress

no disney movie happy ending

there is no romance

in wanting

to constantly die