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.