Blood

You broke my heart. You shattered me into a million tiny little pieces. You took me in your arms then crushed me and you knew it.

But it’s ok, because I’m tough. I’ve got thick skin, and you can break me, but you can’t ruin me all together. Even in pieces I’m still me.

So I’m good. I’m almost back together. I’m healing, it’s good.

Then you come back. YOU COME BACK. Can you believe that? You come back! You come back because you don’t want to be the bad guy. You want everyone to love even when you hurt them. Guess what buddy? There’s no such thing as second chances with me. I don’t hand out cards. You’re out of luck. You’re still the bad guy in my book. You still come back and tear off little pieces of my heart, so you’re still the bad guy, but it’s ok. I can roll with the punches. I can take it.

So you go, and I’m good, and the little pieces are coming back. I’m starting to find the missing parts. It’s good, and I’m getting there.

I’m starting to see things for what they are and you for who you were and especially who you aren’t. I’m starting to build a life that you can’t rip away. The foundations are being laid, and you’re no where in sight, so I have no worries. You’re dead to me. You died to me a long time ago. I live my life pretending that some tragic accident happened about a year ago to you, and you died, oh so sad, but now it’s ok because you’re gone and all that’s left are the memories. You don’t come back.

But you do. You still come back, but this time you’re a coward and you run, and I’m the strong one. I’m the one with dignity. I hold my head up high and you can’t stop looking because I’m strong, and you’re weak. I’m a pillar of rock, and you’re the waves and the sand and you shift and change but I stay the same and I’m unshakable and I’m solid. You can’t break me this time. You come back, and you try to chip away at me, but I chip away at you. So you leave, and all is well and I’m good because I’m strong, I’m a pillar, and you don’t phase me, since you’re dead. How can a dead man faze anyone? He’s dead.

Then you’re gone, and you’re gone for so long. You leave and I don’t even think about you. I can barely remember you. I have to think really hard because you’re dead, and the dead are forgotten – especially the dead who did nothing but hurt. They are easily forgotten.

But then you’re gone for so long, that people start saying your name. They know that you aren’t dead. They know that you’re somewhere out there, even if I refuse to live in that reality that you’re alive in. Soon, people aren’t just saying your name; they’re screaming it all around me. They’re shaking me with it, and it’s resounding in my entire being because it’s so loud. Something’s up. Someone has resurrected you from your death. So I can’t pretend anymore, people won’t let me. I fight, and I refuse to believe it, but you’re alive. You’re alive again.

And once again, you come back. This time, you bring the thing that resurrected you – you bring her. And once again, I’m shattered. Once again, you’re picking off the chipping pieces of my heart. You come back to show me that you’re better. You come back to rub my nose in it, to show me your crap and make me smell it and make me roll around in it in my own home. It’s sick, and I’m angry. I’m fuming. Then suddenly I’m going a million miles an hour and I keep going faster, but it’s not because I can’t stop, it’s because I don’t want to. I don’t want to stop because this time I really want you dead. I want you gone forever. I never want you back, and so my goal is to roll over you and annihilate your very existence. I want to go back and erase your presence in the world because someone resurrected you, and if someone resurrected you, then you need to be gone forever. Your memory shouldn’t even be intact. You don’t deserve it.

I hold my head high and firm, and I smile and laugh and you’d never know. I act as if you’re invisible all while plotting your demise.

So c’mon! C’mon baby! I’ve still got blood left to bleed! I’m not finished yet! Why don’t you just drain me completely! Knock down the towers! Make it final. Make it real. You’re sick selfishness almost killed me once, but you couldn’t take me down. You’re nothing! You couldn’t even take ME down! You call yourself a man? Go ahead! Do it. Just do it. I’ve still got blood left to bleed! It’s coursing through my veins right now as we speak. The thickness of it, the warmth, it’s calling you a LIAR. It’s calling you a COWARD. If your intent is to kill me then shoot me through the brain and DO IT. DO IT LIKE A MAN. I want you to do it. See, I’m better than you. I can die with dignity. I can hold my head high through the whole process. I’ll never show a sign of weakness. You’d never know it. I’d never give you that satisfaction. You on the other hand will go screaming through the night, blood staining everyone and everything that you pass, coiling into a ball and humiliating yourself because I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be and I’m not even a man.

So c’mon baby! Even after ALL of that. Even after the breaking and the building and the breaking and the building you can’t take me down? You had chance after chance and baby, I’m still an open target. I’m still here waiting for you to take me down, but you can’t do it. You never can. You never will. See, no matter what you do or say to me, no matter how many times you cut me and how many times you break me in how ever many pieces you can, it’s never ever, not even for a minute going to change the fact that

I’ve still got blood left to bleed.