you only want me because you couldn’t kill me

final girl, dream girl

i have been left for dead.

i have been left crouching in a corner on the kitchen floor, holding my stomach where a black hole has formed. my intestines form a spiral galaxy above me. pools of my tears burn above me like molten stars. yet, my gaze is focused on my heart. my heart that you used as a pin cushion. my heart filled with needles—the sharp pains of your behavior. every time you knew an action would hurt me, and you did it anyway, it was an act of violence. with a sly grin, you sit at the dining table and watch me bleed. whispering shadows churn around me and my voice trickles with defeat.

how did love betray me?

how did love become the villain of my story?

you tell me you’re sorry and you rest—after all, i wasn’t destroyed in one day. i was a fortress of a woman, a sovereign state. i built myself with bricks made from the bones of my vulnerability. i was a woman unmoved by your presence. a woman who was a challenge. a woman with a fire emanating from within her lungs, fueled with every breath. a woman so tall in her greatness that you felt very, very small.

a woman to conquer.

a woman to humble.

a woman to shrink.

and, with each drop of blood you spilled, i became smaller.

to have power over a powerful woman made you feel like a god. as this woman crawls across the tile, with a stream of poison and deception pouring from her body, and begs you to love her as you once pretended you were capable of doing, you are proud of yourself. as darkness fell over me, a light emanated from your face. my light. i was conquered, in love. you inhaled the fire leaving my body, and i was yours to burn. no longer towering over you, but a pile of ash in a corner on the kitchen floor.

i have been left for dead.

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i saw the wings of the devil and mistook him for an angel

a noxious light masquerading as a star

dark spirits crawled into my mouth with his kiss

locusts consumed the fruit of my life

though i was born by the flowing waters of Sharon

in love,

i sat in desolate lands

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you hear the floorboards creaking. you hear the strings of my heart throbbing in the walls. a draft carries my laughter across your ears. you feel my hair brush against your face. the doors are talking, and the love i gave you is spilling over the thresholds and into the night. you look for me, and i am not where you left me. i am not how you left me—bleeding and defeated, in love.

you thought you killed me.

with every lie, you thought, surely, my heart full of love would stop beating. for every moment that i reached for your hand and you weren’t there, you thought, surely, bitterness would consume me. for every moment you chose someone or something over me, you thought, surely, i would never stand tall again. but, blessed is she.

born of bone, i rise.

angels mixed holy wine with my blood and ash, and i was reborn in their wings. with not a scar on my heart, or mud in my soul, i haven risen, cleansed of you. joyful, fruitful, peaceful, full of life. who are you, now? nobody, nothing. though i am not dead, i haunt you. you see my eyes when you close yours. you see my name carved into the wooden pews on sunday morning. my smile is a burning sun in your dark mind. from dark corners, you watch me. from within a darkness that is all your own, you are intrigued by your insignificance. you have failed to conquer me,

to humble me,

to shrink me.

and, you are impressed, in love.

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you watch as blessings continue to wash over my face. you left me for dead, but i survived to sit peacefully at tables with wine and fresh bread. and now, you—with rotting flesh beneath your fingernails—want to sit next to me, to love me.

am i your dream girl?

the one who survived every wound you inflicted upon her. the one who survived every manipulation and disappointment and is still full of love. the one who’s stronger than you thought she was. the one who got away in the end. the one you couldn’t kill.

the final girl.

had i laid there and died would you be here, wanting my attention—liking my instagram stories? would you miss me if the venom that flowed through your teeth and into my veins turned my blood to stone? no—you’d still be smiling, with a deceitfully sweet air in your voice and a triumphant flame in your eyes.

you only want me because you couldn’t kill me.

source: juno calypso

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