I'm on my own.
Just me, myself, and I.
I guess I should've imagine fireworks,
or maybe some loud slow song.
But maybe that's not how life works.
then again, this isn't the usual love.
I hide away, behind fake smiles.
Then at night, I pull out my true hero.
It doesn't really hurt anymore.
Actually, it really helps.
I don't think it's normal,
but who really cares anyway?
I love the way it kisses my skin.
The way it smears red like lipstick.
I can save myself,
every
single
night.
