i posted it last night on ap and practically died of shame.

I am the dirty house
where he almost
killed you. I am
the tears you cried

while they arrested him.

The stars were so bright
overhead
and I kept staring
like they could
beam me away,
but the stars didn't
rescue me
and my dreams didn't save me
like they do
in the movies.

I am the graveyard
solemn and still,
that watched our lives
play out with such
flippancy,
the arguments and
my night-time songs,
a child's light heart
darkened by your
mistakes.

Do you remember
the beer bottles on
the window sill?
The broken glass that
cut my feet, the nights he
locked me in
my room? Were you
looking away,
or did you just
not
care?

I am the radio
that played with such
eerie cheer
through the police sirens
and shouting matches,
through my own screams,
still playing those
happy songs
where only sobs belong.