At twenty two I tried to die.
I looked into a silver bell.
Swallowed until I was sick.
In the bell,
A kaleidoscope of colors.
A boy with red hair.
Eyes kind.
Lips thick.
Said every time he saw me
I was sitting in a row of white,
crying.
I laid awake at night.
In a green posy bed,
soaked in blood.
Blue from head to toe.
The boy with the red hair called me true.
Told me horror stories.
Said he bled too.
Why are all the most beautiful men bruised?
When he kissed me I could taste the cat he killed.
Then he pulled my hair,
bit my neck
and eventually I forgot the cat.
Made him promise only to write love on his arms.
In the morning I left with four bags.
Two under my eyes.
He helped me carry them to the door.
I let him sleep.
And took a flight back to you.