I know some people
like to pour salt in the wound
but I'd never met anyone
who'd so carefully cut open old scars
just to clean them with saline
and delight so wildly in my pain
before you

they just don't die
and now neither can you

I don't know how to explain
that your confetti looks like ash
and that I would rather be looking
at nineteen through glassy eyes
locked in a permanent stasis
than eating cardboard flavoured cake

you were there to dry my tears
but your words held no water
which is fine for a packet of tissues
but less good for a friend

'love lasts forever'
yeah, she probably meant it
at the time

my ribs look like fingers pressing against fine silk
I should not be okay with this
I should not be okay with this
I should not be okay with this

how am I supposed to trust myself
when you have made me question
everything