I am from the burning pleasure of vodka,
from the orange of the pills not subscribed to me and the silver of the razor blade laughing at my pain.
I'm from the locked bathroom-
quiet, lit only by the harsh glow of the lights above the sink.
if felt like a spotlight on my weakness, an entire crowd of people waiting for me to break.
I am from the menacing branches that tap at my window,
the leaves that whisper my name like they know something I don't.
I am from the evasive looks and the obvious whispers,
from the unspoken thoughts that swim in the back of my mind like sharks and the victims they claim,
from the bags under my eyes and the heavy feeling that settled in my gut and never left.
I am from the creases in my sheets,
from the ramen noodles and the wiggling of fingers down a throat as warm as sin.
from the acidic taste of it coming back again, never gone for long.
I'm from the words they never said, and the words they said but didn't mean,
from the dead eyes that said more than words ever could.
I am from the wind that whips around me, taunting my broken wings until they think they can fly.
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