beneath everything (ramblings)

And, lost in those moments when I am no longer real,
I remember that you were a simply a spoilt little boy
with a red-haired little girl wrapped around your finger

for just a little bit too long.

Beneath everything I have ever believed in
there was only ever
you.
(The inside of my mouth always tasted of something you left behind)

Four years on my knees and all I have to show for it
are these bruises that wont heal.
Blood ruptured beneath the surface of this inevitability.
(can bruises leave scars?)

And of course, my self indulgent words
which never meant anything to you.
I dress and undress you. (dress and undress and undress)
in the hope that you will eventually make sense
and I will be able to match pictures to these flavours.
Or draw the line between myself and reality

It is a futile task.
You are as pointless clothed as you are naked.
And I was always naked,
just as you were always absent.

And there is no line between my car-wreck mornings
and the things you told me were true

I would watch you leave through the window
while your carcass took up space on in my bed.

Somehow, you still think it was me that died inside
while I was still picking the flesh from your bones.