The clouds are the same shade of purple as her bruises on her knees
From stumbling around
Drunk. Always drunk
The sky spits on the roof of her top floor apartment
Heavy rain leaking from little cracks and corners of the ceiling
There's a *** on the kitchen floor
A bucket on the bathroom counter
An old ice cream tub on the couch
All collecting the steady drip from the walls
Sometimes she kisses and feels nothing
Sometimes she kisses and feels her ribs crack open
Most days, she feels hollow
You can see her, a smoking *** of boiling water
Her blood bubbles boiling to the top
Rusting thrift store cookware flooding onto the floor
Even after you empty all those buckets
They will always fill back up
****, I wish it would stop raining.
Suicide awareness. Self-inflicting wounds.
For all the pretty things that left too soon to see themselves bloom.