Midn i g h t b l u e
The bruises on my neck spelled out your name in vibrant hues.
Gu n m e t a l .
Sharp silver caressed my heart strings.
P u l l. T h e. T r i g g e r.
The blood in my mouth tasted better than your lies, anyways.
YOU ARE READING
Academy Of American Bullshit
PoetryCollection of poetry, parts of short stories, and the occasional rant written by an artist who is angrier than she'd like to admit.
