Lately I cannot cry from my ducts,
So the red on my wrist cries for me.
God does she cry.
She cries so loud, so painfully loud.
She cries so loud that on the really bad days end up comforting her.
And I meet her halfway and I meet her with metals my mother has removed from my room countless times.
God do I meet her.
I do not just meet her, I rejoice happily and embrace her harder than I embraced my him the day he came home.
Because she is obnoxious and she is morally wrong and she is what makes me gross and undesirable yet,
her tears are so so loud, they manage to make everything around me so so quiet.
