i am surrounded by familiar faces that i can’t place any semblance of a name to as if all the people i’ve ever missed have smudged themselves into a single existence to remind me that for everyone that’s left me, i’ve left another behind.

there are pieces of me cut out and resting upon the table next to my unknowing father; he asks me what’s happened with an alarming amount of surprise considering the knife in his hand.

she doesn’t remember my name but my blood stains the tip of her tongue the way four letters used to in the middle of quiet mornings that whole summer — it was only two years ago.

i haven’t woken up screaming since that decemeber, you know the one, but there’s a first and a last time for everything and i will never again say eat your heart out without considering the consequence of starving for attention.