bloodshot eyes across bathroom mirrors
swear my name three times under your breath
they blink.
heartbeats against broken ribs
trace the outline of my ghost with your trembling fingers
"i'd kill you first.
you've got dead eyes, anyway."
YOU ARE READING
FLAWED MOTION (a writing collection)
Poetry"i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist." © xelena clarisse, 2015 highest: #104 in poetry
