She wanted to breathe again, she wanted to be happy and she wanted to feel something, anything.
No. She wanted to scream at the moon and cry out to the stars and scream to the universe to stop expanding and tell the earth to stop spinning.
She wanted to stop stitching her skin back together and she wanted the stinging to stop. She wanted to be able to stand up on her own.
no no no no.
She wanted to kill herself,
take a bullet to her head,
jump off a bridge,
She wanted hee spine to be crushed and stepped on and her skin to be tore to pieces.
She wanted to stop scratching her face to the point blood stained her fingernails.
She wanted to stop trying.
Maybe, she was just overthinking and needed to sleep but how could he sleep when all behind her eyelids was her?
YOU ARE READING
asphalt
Poetry"though your skin's sheet white and your arms carry scars, your hair isn't clean much and your lungs black with tar and god, you love to argue and you can't play guitar but still let me tell you that I love who you are." 2014
