suicide
is a form of art.
broken bones form bridges
to cross
oceans of blood.
and oh, how empty life would be
without death.
nothing makes the heart
ache and break and bend and snap in two
like suicide.
it leaves the most wretched and ugly
aftertaste.
and oh, how i love to watch
as you try to swallow it.
try to wash it out
with soap
and liquor.
but it'll never go away.
like bile
burning holes through your larynx.
you tell yourself it's just
acid reflux,
but it's not-you know damn well.
it's just easier to lie.
YOU ARE READING
SKIN & BONES
Poetry🗯️ poetry trigger warning "IS THERE LIFE BEYOND THE GRAVE AND WILL I MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES DAY AFTER DAY THERE MUST BE A BETTER WAY" crossposted on ao3 title from skin & bones by fit for a king started [05/08/23] ended...
