there's a vacancy sign flickering in the window of my ribcage.
i am nothing more than a crumbling motel with shower-heads tainted bronze from rust, dirty white cushions that will drown you in their rough material suck your soul out of you and plaster it on the upholstery of the smoke-stained wallpaper and furniture that's been broken for years. but nevertheless, you saw the 'yes' illuminated on my vacancy sign and you walked in.
but there's a reason that i'm just a used and abused dingy motel with a bad name on account of the suicide rate: i die a little each time you move out and leave again.
now i'm on the bathroom floor which is stained with the blood of broken hearts, cutting myself on other people's jagged flaws, drowning my demons in alchohol until everything is blurred and looks just like you.
i'm tired of new beginnings because they never fucking last.
now the 'yes' blinks 'no' but vacancy still flickers in my heart and you're the only one that notices.
YOU ARE READING
Daisy Chains
Roman pour Adolescents❝ we're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away. ❞ [ a collection of drabbles, musings and poetry ]
