i can't muffle this sadness
in pretty words anymore
it screams too loud and
tears apart
all these red-inked pages
with a vengeance of the forgotten
demons don't like to be
denied
and it's january again already
as if rubbing my hands warmer
will melt the icicles lining
my spine
inching up to my collarbone
every day a little colder
god
how am i still alive

there is no beauty in dying this way