"I pay to shoot guns in an alleyway. Remember his tortured smile and magazine wrists. I try to grow thyme, live with thirty one people and call myself stable. I surround myself with cats and houseplants and forget his last name. I clip my nails too short and bleed into the sink. I go to our pizza place and forget how much not crying hurts. I taste your coke, lick at your obituary. I am lockdown, intoxicated tongue. I demo a kitchen, a bathroom, a heart. Chip my knuckle. Ruin my only mouth."
— Anatomy of Grief, by Katie Pukash
YOU ARE READING
aes. poems
Poetryhi i like poems and stuff so will update when i cant sleep (which is Very frequently) NONE OF THESE ARE MINE UNLESS MENTIONED. ALL THE CREDIT GOES TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS. T R I G G E R W A R N I N G self harm, depression, mental illnesses, etc.
