I Haven’t Killed You Yet

by Noise Pollution

I hate to admit it
but it’s not getting better
the only way
is if you’d disappear forever
from my mind, from the world
from my list of lovely girls
I hate you so much I can only imagine

I cut my arms up
sometimes at night
and I can only hope that
one day you will try
to indulge in everything,
the dark rooms I enjoyed
and take a dull razor
to the skin that you employed
as my enemy, a friend to every
boy I couldn’t trust
I hope the bleeding is profuse
and the blade was hiding rust
and you watch a red line lower down the sink
and wonder what you’ve done
The blood, it is reflecting me
the only fucking one
and I dream that you will start to sink
underneathe warm water
in the bath that you’ve prepared
to end your life the only proper
way that you can
after knowing what I am
I will supply you with pills
if you don’t drown

in bloody water.

But I’m the one
who had that night
a thousand times in my head
and you will never
feel regret
even when I’m found dead
so what’s the
motherfucking point
in trying to survive
if the girl I loved
don’t give a shit
if I’m dead or I’m alive?

So I will hold onto this
the box-cutter that slashed my wrists
it means so much more to me now
than you do, than you’ll ever know about.
And sure, I’ll bleed my blood
but at least I won’t be in love
the red will flow down my hands
and it will pool where I cup them, together
and I will drink
and be merry.