You were:
The smell of strawberries
icing on fingertips
sticky blood
broken teeth
sharp bones
Sunday nights,
and Friday mornings
warm blankets, and
forest fires.
You are:
The pain in my chest
The blood on my fingertips
The broken mirrors
The sleepless nights
3 a.m text messages,
the bloodshot eyes
behind the crooked smile
of a shattered dreamer.
The sharp feeling of depression
when I hear your name.
The headaches and migraines
right before breaking point.
The end.
-c.g
