smiling in my pictures
but I'm vomiting glitter
and killing butterflies;
not fatally, just enough to bandage.
self-destruction is not exclusive;
physically, maybe, but skipping meals
and writing on your wrists
will make your mother cry a hundred tears
for every picture of you with bloodshot eyes.
I'm okay, mom, please don't worry,
but knowing how much cheap perfume it takes to cover the smell of cigarettes is not something I wish I knew.