i lay on the bed
scribbling words
of adornment
with my pen

the sound it makes
reminds me of
bones that break

the scars,
they never heal
do they?

and so my
hands can't
help but seek
out other hands
to hold
and shake

time flies,
and the blood
stains on the sheets
remain

an empty plastic
bottled smiles
from the end of my bed

tells me it's goodnight
for good,--

nights
were never
my favorite
time of day
anyway