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alyssa-rose-nPoems
Yesterday I wrote my thoughts with the overspill of red wine, and, bandaids that fell from my cracked finger tips. I wrote the words I hated saying, I wrote the words I said too often, I wrote what you said when your lips bled. Your lips bled eight times that night; your lips bleed when you lie. I watched you scrape tobacco from under your nails. I watched you melt away like a candle wick. Yesterday I wrote my thoughts. I cut my hair with razor blades, and, painted my lips that color you hate. I burned my favorite photo of you, I burned the tips of my fingers on the candle, I burned the dinner I had on the stove. Yesterday I spilled wine on the couch, I wrapped my fingers in band-aids, and I wrote. I wrote about how your lips bled, and bled. But I won't write about that tomorrow.
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Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Ten After Midnight
Yesterday I wrote my thoughts with the overspill of red wine, and, bandaids that fell from my cracked finger tips. I wrote the words I hated saying, I wrote the words I said too often, I wrote what you said when your lips bled. Your lips bled eight times that night; your lips bleed when you lie. I watched you scrape tobacco from under your nails. I watched you melt away like a candle wick. Yesterday I wrote my thoughts. I cut my hair with razor blades, and, painted my lips that color you hate. I burned my favorite photo of you, I burned the tips of my fingers on the candle, I burned the dinner I had on the stove. Yesterday I spilled wine on the couch, I wrapped my fingers in band-aids, and I wrote. I wrote about how your lips bled, and bled. But I won't write about that tomorrow.
alyssa-rose-n
Written by
alyssa-rose-n
American
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
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