Ghost kisses across my skin,
Gleaming white from the blade,
Music notes seeping out under my sleeves,
The days I cut with rib-bones like a knife,
They dreamed they could save me,
Drag me from the depths of my self-hate sea

I said I was made of stars, they burned bright,
In phosphenes and fluorescents in the night

Said love could save me, be the one thing that wouldn't hurt
Only self love saved me, though I'm content to have the memory of notes unsung,
Of nights unspent,
Of kisses too long ago to have had,
to have burned.