waves of lines caress the wall
dripping until they leave a trail that
looks like tears the blood’s fallen
from his fingers for the final time
figurines smashed to

smithereens and i’m at a loss
for words i’ve always been told
i have a knack for
eloquence but when he walked
up to me with his

wrists the shade of my favorite
lipstick and said
"finally my veins can feel
the air” all i could say
was “what a mess you’ve made”
i cleaned him up again and packed
him up for

the house again but i pray
and hope and wish
that they can help him more
than i ever could
i love him to bits but this
love is breaking me
apart.