Sleep to banish the sad, sleep to seep up the tears from my face, sleep to reap the benefits of death.

I wonder if you got caught or catched or just can’t

Talk to me

A joke to choke on

You forgot about me. Or maybe you wish you could. I can still taste myself on your fingertips. Dance with your silhouette, feel the silk sheet aftermath. Turn the light on and laminate this holy ground.

I felt the child grow between the cracks of trauma. Filling in the gaps, sweeping out the excess. Womb full of life when only death was promised to me. I watched winter come and go, and with it you went. I felt the hunger grow between the cracks of trauma. Filling in the gaps, sweeping out the excess.

I wanted to **** myself, and you were screaming about the ***** clothes on the floor.

Why do your words feel like slaps on my wrists, hands and fingertips.