step one.

-i cut myself on a bottle cap (i bought some Coke in glass bottles...sounded good...and i dont have a bottle opener haha so dont think the worst of that first line).-

the blood on my palm reminds me of the red i've been seeing lately;

the anger, that need to feel the quickening pulse in my chest,

i'm guessing the reason why was, if anything, to justify my unrest.

why did the words surface in my mind?

why did i push them out, like a knife into your heart?

because, while time does heal, it does a shitty job...the stitches come apart.

the wounds seep blood,

and the old familiar hurt becomes the only thing i can recognize anymore.

and, to my dismay, time only moves one way;

there's no denying its passage, and there is no way to contain it.

i did this to myself; pushed and shoved and threw myself into the mud.

why?...why not?

second chances have come and gone, i took for granted what i had, and

maybe a part of me knew...

just what i was putting you through.

so im punishing myself;

not with cuts, but with thoughts, with emotion, with intagible pain;

and with love.

i know i should be able to forgive myself,

but i know i never will.not for anything i've done,

not for anything.

i've killed hope: choked the life out of it until i knew the winter breeze would sting that much more.

i cannot forgive myself.

i will not.

even if there is a choice...

i choose this.