our ship wrecked and in you I sank, falling into the deep recesses of everything i said i would never become. On the way down i hit the sharp rock walls, but with a little dusting i found them just to be your own edges of resentment. resentment was carved into my skull with the razor blade fingers he used to pull my hair; but here in this lonely place, i found the purest form of resentment, something only you could know as you looked at me, a barbed wire overgrown with lavender.  If i hadn't hit the bottom so hard then maybe i could have detached my barbed wire from the razor blade fingers, but instead, I'm at the bottom of a sick trench, completely entangled, all because I'm too cold for your hands to touch without shattering.