She lit a cigarette in his name, and poured some ***** onto her scars.
As the night became darker she whispered a broken 'i love you' from the door ajar.
She could see his chest rising and falling, and that was the first time she neglected her heart.

The second time came around as she poured some wine onto her guilt.
As the night became lonely she whispered her shaky 'im sorry' to the candles reflected on the silk.
She could see the shadow of his embrace as it moved slowly to the rhythm of their thrill.

The third time came as she poured whiskey onto her fears.
As the night became somber, she whispered 'i don't want to be here'.
From the kitchen counter she could see the glim of his body, as she hoped he couldn't see through her tears.

The last time came around as she poured some gin onto her lies.
From the shower curtain she could see the warm water falling upon his eyes.
When the night became heavy, she whispered a nostalgic 'good-bye' as her clothes fell from skin, for one last time

The scary part about those nights where the voices get too loud is the screaming to yourself in the hope that the demons leave. They scream at me “WHAT’S YOUR PURPOSE” and that I am worthless, but scarier still is when you start to believe them.

with a fancy knot
and bristles that poke your skin
it's wrapped around you,
and you fall
kicking your legs around,
searching for the balance you pushed away
your eyes roll back, white and gummy
your skin is a beautiful shade of lilac
the tongue dangling from your lips is dry and pale
your neck is swollen and blood is wetting the sisal
your fingertips are cold and blue
your sneakers and pointing down
and you can't even hear their screams when they see what you looked like after you tried to fly away.

She's had it with the dramatics
Maybe I should take a page
from the Cro-magnons
and pick these knuckles
up from the pavement
Demeanor dragging 'cross
the grass like an alligator belly
I'm slow - 1st place is just a myth to me
Sloth life, you can find me in the treelines
reaching for the stars when the night comes

Depicted as an addict for your afflictions, emotionally evicted, my ****** expressions are cryptic
I am absent.
I am a shoe without a sole or a tongue, hung over lines for everyone to see
I am absent.
"Perhaps CAPS is the best place for you." As time elapsed I couldn’t grasp the concept
Replaced the laces with stems from flower vases, It’s less about the material and more about the release
I am absent.
Adept at adapting to your feelings even when I can’t feel a thing, I’m already a ghost
So why is my lack of spirit haunting me? The somber face in the mirror sends shivers down my spine
I am absent.
In my head I find serenity in screaming obscenities, but to your face I timidly say, "It’s fine."
I find serendipity in finite extremities, they seem to be the only thing I can understand
Just give me an ending in transcendent tendons, I am fingertip dependent with a penchant for physical tension because...
I am ---