something's changed;

he makes me so sad, im always crying. and he looks at my eyes like my tears are his pleasure. where are you, to hold me and wipe the tears? he never comforts me, because he likes it when im sad. im more vulnerable, easier to overtake when im down like this. and he likes that. he can do what he likes, i am his ragdoll, i never complain. cause somehow the way he screams my name as im held up against the wall, its beautiful, and it drowns out your words that replay in my head, they havent stopped once since that day way back when, but hearing him yell, it helps a little. the bruises on every inch of my skin, well im too busy inspecting them to overanalyze my thoughts, to think about us, how we were, how we'll never be again. i tell the doctors about you every time, but they just want to know about the scars. they want to see the bruises. they think theyre from you, cause they wont listen when i say it was him. they just keep asking me where youre at, for your full name, so they can get you. they want to know what im thinking. but i try to tell them and all they do is raise the dose, or put me on something new. none of this helps the pain of losing you. and every night before i fall asleep, i think about you, i whisper your name into the darkness, hoping that it will help me to see you in my dreams, seeing as i can see you nowhere else. and his voice is the worst, cause it sounds just like yours, but meaner. his eyes are yours, but they've lost all their shine. i still see you in him, somewhere locked inside, im wondering if youll come back.