4 years later, she will see her at the cafe they used to come to everyday and she will see her and almost choke on the air around her.
She will stare at her and the dark circles under her once soft eyes and she will notice the asphalt scalding her taste buds and pores and she will see the replica of what she once used to be.
She will see her stardust bones and soft, loving eyes and she will not flinch or run away when she rests her hand on top of hers.
and for the first time in three years, she will feel her eyelashes get wet and her throat close up and she will just stare at her, ignoring the tears and the sadness lurking around.
Her lungs will expand and contract like the universe and she won't be able to look away from her wrists.
She will glance at her arms and feel her ribs creaking and cracking and her blood burning when she'll see the red markings across her almost translucent skin.
She will ask her,
why?
only to hear harsh words of hatred tumbling from her mouth
"you did this, do you not know? You ruined me, absolutely fucking ruined me."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too."
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
