You spoke addiction
like a language
like an art form
marks on your arms
on your thighs
A Mosaic of patterns
You said they looked prettier than the
ligature marks around your neck
the invisible noose
you constantly swayed from
Like addiction was a guy
you couldn't make your mind up
about
at-least they had more meaning
You said I never understood the purpose of tiles
and how beautiful they looked close up
and how you never got bored of counting them
There was more life in your bruises
than in your eyes
like each little hole
****** out a little more of you
said I could never understand the
beauty in
feeling
really
feeling
lukewarm bath water
turn cold
In a womb of your own destruction
in a needle
in a rope
in a razor
a false sense of life
of *life