My lips are bruised.
They are red,
and raw,
from biting them.
Tired of trying not to remember,
the taste of your lips.
My face is pale,
hollow.
my eyes wide with fear,
with shock.
The bags under my eyes,
show signs of giving up,
show signs of being too afraid,
of laying in bed alone.
My ribs have grown a face,
and they smile at me in the mirror.
Their teeth a razor sharp edge,
cutting across my skin.
I look,
caught in the headlights,
of an oncoming car.
I look,
like I don't care,
if it runs me over.
Too afraid,
to feel,
I encase myself in the darkness.
But that is just as bad.
It suffocates me,
makes me *****.
My lips are bruised.
They are red,
and raw,
from biting them.
Tired of trying not to remember,
the taste of your lips.
And as the first signs of a slow death start to show,
I realise I am in hell.