there is something beautiful about you
when you cry.
i don't know if it's the sadness
that leaks from your skin
or how your brain pain is near tangible.
nor do i know
why that should be beautiful
but perhaps it is just the softness
the relenting,
the giving up,
the most ****** up form of peace.
and the repeat realization
of all the reasons
you should feel guilty.

it shows on your face.
as your cheeks redden and then drain slowly of color.
through your muscles
as they tense, almost relax, and then shake.
your eyes, they are red.
they are red and small and drooping.

you see yourself in the mirror
and you fight an urge to smash it again.
you're ashamed, but you see it too:
you are so ******* pretty when you cry.
that robe of misery suits you so well.
maybe you were born for pain.