Stuck

My own inability to leave you drains me,

And I suffocate under each word that you swallow.

The doorknob locks eyes with me, chuckling softly,

Knowing that I am headed towards the gallows.

How do I walk away without being the killer?

Your victimhood waves above our house like a flag,

But your little cruelties crave some new blood,

And I am your trophy, your favorite price tag.

The idea of the old me slips my mind these days.

You must feel proud seeing these walls falling.

I stand still as my feet get covered in vines,

Hoping they all see that this love is not my calling.

Still, I stay in the corner like some apparition,

And my lungs are heavier than my pale lids.

The doorknob locks eyes with me, crying gently,

As you once again treat me like a stubborn kid.

-Jackie