i write about you
because a poem might make this pain feel better
it might make it beautiful
but there is nothing beautiful
about me locking the door to my bedroom
and swallowing 22 pills
there is nothing beautiful
about the blood from my wrists getting on my sheets
and crying because you won't have touched the new ones
there is nothing beautiful
about begging my wrists to keep bleeding
there is nothing beautiful
about my screams
for you to come back
there is nothing beautiful
about the physical pain in my chest
when you told me
that you
wanted someone
else