Your eyes resembled the troubled waters at sea,
always shimmering, churning, crashing, always making me wonder if you had sky blue galaxies trapped inside of you.

And your smile always looked as if it had been carved into your face with the same instrument used to make those marks on your arms.

I found comfort in your sadness, because that was the only time you were true to yourself.

I found comfort in your freedom. I always loved seeing you live carelessly, daringly. Insubordinate to anyone who tried to stop you.

Sometimes it worried me to see you scratch your skin after you cursed about destroying everything you touched.

Sometimes it worried me to see you lose yourself among the empty bottles of alcohol.

You were burdened with a heavy heart, and like the pupils in your eyes and the emotion in your smile and the sound of your laugh, it was vacant.

And all I could say was, maybe, just maybe, if you unclenched your fists you would've found that you were holding onto nothing.