Blood on the sleeve of your sweater / you smile when they ask you what's wrong / recorded laughter through scratchy speakers / lipstick on the mirror / mascara on your fingers / soak your tears into the stems of the flowers on your windowsill / you'll never let them see you cry / hands pressed to the window / you prepare for the sting of another cycle / needlepoint sunsets & bleary eyed sunrises / static silence fills the hours / & you can't help but wonder if they'll visit your grave