Tumblr

“I pity the woman who will love you
 when I am done. She will show up 
to your first date with a dustpan 
and broom, ready to pick up all the pieces 
I left you in. She will hear my name so often 
it will begin to dig holes in her. That 
is where doubt will grow. She will look 
at your neck, your thin hips, your mouth, 
wondering at the way I touched you. 
She will make you all the promises I did 
and some I never could. She will hear only 
the terrible stories. How I drank. How I lied. 
She will wonder (as I have) how someone 
as wonderful as you could love a monster 
like the woman who came before her. Still, 
she will compete with my ghost. 
She will understand why you do not look 
in the back of closets. Why you are afraid 
of what’s under the bed. She will know 
every corner of you is haunted 
by me.”

-Clementine von Radics (via vmvndvdvrlxng)

I was her, the 'she', the woman showing up with the dustpan and broom. Now I will pick up my very own pieces and will walk away with every last bit of my dignity left.