you are a mirror,
already shattered and left with razor sharp edges,
but made of the same pieces as before
you were dropped.
alcohol and meaningless *** are only a temporary glue
and five months time have worn it thin.
resist your predisposition to push everyone away
before hearing the way her voice shakes,
begging you to stay until tomorrow,
as you drown yourself in self destruction.
let the oceans of her eyes swallow the pills for you,
and her own scarred skin fend against the knives you pull out of your back.
you have rebuilt the broken glass walls of your mind
with your one-night-stand's skin-tight leather pants,
strong enough to defend against the words that slip out of her mouth
but not pictures of her bare skin.
use your hands to make something tangible,
like a hand-written letter to your mother
or a mixtape for the sweet girl you shared a cab with,
instead of giving yourself bruises and four second *******.
but *******,
you never once asked how I was doing.