x.
nights like these you almost ask for help, but you're too choked up by the words you never said.
ix.
the sky's the color of ink and the breeze sends a chill down your spine. you wonder if you'll ever feel warm again.
viii.
tears drip from your eyes and blood drips from your wrists. you pretended you were invincible until tonight.
vii.
you could've built a city with those eyes. you could've been so many things. kissed boys with vodka lips and cigarette teeth, and you still can't get the taste of the ancient ruins out.
vi.
try hard enough and you'll paint your mouth cherry red and cover up the scars. if you do, you'll be beautiful. someone might almost love you someday.
v.
you swear that you'll never let it get this bad again, if you could just make it through the night.
iv.
when you were seven you forgot to feed your pet goldfish. it died. all that matters at two fifty-three a.m. is your pet gold fish and anything else you've ever destroyed.
iii.
your body is a temple. your body is a temple. your mind is the ruins of a temple. it's the sacking of jerusalem under your skin. nothing sacred is left here. all holiness has been drained from your body.
ii.
you were never the calm before the storm. you're screaming at the top of your lungs; the wind is howling through your hair. in the right light, this is poetry instead of pain.
i.
this is when the shatter comes. it's slipping through your fingers now. your smile's just punched out teeth. your world is ending, your entire universe is destroyed.
