it’s bleak, dark, lonely full of fake smiles and 2 am binges stomach aches and head aches and back aches, nausea this weird urge to chop off all my hair and send it to you in a box along with all your ******* letters with that little three word lie printed on every page in your small beautiful handwriting
no sleep, and when sleep happens I wake up with a tiny speck of disgusting hope that this was all a dream and it fades back into reality like a dark shadow over my bed
like my makeup smearing into my skin
dying my cheeks black
you’re gone
and you’re never coming back
if my empty chest was a house I’d burn you to the ground