Your reddening face transformed into a swirly Van Gogh painting in front of me,
The tears swelling in my eyes acted as the water put to the canvas,
My eyelashes the paintbrush,
Every blink causing the colours to blotch and streak before me.
The last kiss sounded like an entire glasshouse shattering,
There became an uproar in my head,
Chaos broke out.
You were still in front of me, although this time you didn’t treat my wounds,
My feet were cut from the glass but you didn’t tend to them,
My blood was spilling across the floor but you didn’t help me to mop it,
Not this time.
Not anymore,
You said you had run out of bandages to aid me now,
You said it had got too much,
It had got too much for you,
For you.
I am the one drowning in my own blood and it has got too much for you?
I cling to your arm, expecting you to haul me out of the depths as you usually do,
But your skin begins to dissolve,
You turn and leave,
I sink lower and lower into the cavernous darkness that I know all too well.
Slowly but surely the darkness slithers beneath my fingernails, slicing back my flesh,
The darkness makes a home within my body,
Claiming it as her own,
Driving home I see a possum that had been hit, I realise our hearts are beating in a similar slow, pulsating beat, we are both being left to die.