i think someone stitched my pockets closed
and the fluorescent light above me flickers,
as if it's possessed by a lonely ghost.

these days grow softer, lines fading into watercolor
and my mouth tastes like a hundred cotton *****
from all these pills i've been prescribed to swallow.

i remember when i wanted to be loved,
now i only want the beating of my heart to cease
but the pulse in my wrists belongs to someone else
and when i look in the mirror, the creature i see isn't me.

sundays are the days i was tangled up in the sheets suffocating
and choking out sobs i couldn't form into proper words
if only her arms could finally envelop me in gentle darkness.