warning signs

neglectedcatharsis:

I’ve never heeded the warnings
The pleas of “don’t” and “you’re only going to hurt yourself.”
Maybe it was because I had something to prove
To them, myself, anyone and everyone
Maybe I wanted to believe I had something to prove
Or maybe I simply wanted to seek adrenaline
That thing so good about being so bad,
About knowing that each scratch could potentially leave behind a scar with a story to tell
A badge I could finally be proud of.

Maybe that’s why I ended up with you.
I chased that feeling of “something so good in something so bad.”
I never thought I’d be good for you.
You needed me like the sea needed broken glass
Like a vein needed a clot
Or like a broken heart needed whiskey.
You laughed
Warm and beautiful and filling me nearly to the point of bursting
And I knew you were the something good,
And I was the something bad you’d never need.

I tormented myself for months
A dry laugh, devoid of humor
At these charades I was playing with myself.
The pain was a welcomed reminder
That I could still feel.
You never understood what I was doing to myself,
And honestly neither did I.

One night,
Several minutes of talking myself into and out of it,
Breathes raspy and shallow,
My lungs never feeling full enough,
Something snapped.
Something deep in the recesses of my chest,
Where I thought I had forgotten how remember
That warmth slipped down my spine
Settled in my stomach
Infected my head.
I tried to fight myself, I really did.
Fingertips memorizing the pattern of typing, deleting, and retyping.
I didn’t recognize myself
Or this boldness.
I knew I had been lying to myself,
To you,
And that warmth suddenly had a say in it.
Her timing was unconventional and unwelcome,
For I knew this would be the biggest danger I could delve into yet.
I created my own warnings
And they were not heeded.
You said yes.
My lungs emptied,
My head clouded,
And for once,
I regret not listening to the warnings.
The warmth rejoiced.

I’ve never heeded the warnings
The pleas of “don’t” and “you’re only going to hurt yourself,”
Of “stop” and “what do you think you’re doing,”
Of “they’ll never feel the same” and “what are you thinking.”
Maybe it was because I had something to prove
To myself, those noises, the drill of my own pain and pleasure.
Maybe I wanted to believe I had something to prove
Or maybe I finally did.
And maybe that’s why I did.
Maybe that’s why that warmth continues to fill me, pushing on the walls of my heart and soul, nearly bursting at the seams.
She won once and wanted to gloat.
I’m not mad at her.
And maybe that’s why I still feel like I’m that something bad to your something good.
You continue to tell me otherwise,
But I’ve never heeded the warnings.
It’s left behind a scar, beautiful and standing proud against the others
It has a story to tell.
You’re the badge I can finally be proud of.