And I want to know
what drink makes you happy,
How many pills you
need to forget my name.
Or what song makes
you want to love me,
Just to let go of it
tomorrow.
Tonight we are ripped
off of our luxuries,
We’re left sober and
we don’t know why we are high.
Skipped breakfast to
feel a little more alive,
Until we hurt our
ribs as they tear our flesh apart.
It’s anorexic when we
show our bones, shine through this skin,
But dramatic when we
show feelings?
Darling, be real.
If you are ripped,
you are a masterpiece on the run,
Ironically beautiful
at the broken places, stronger than the stitches.
That little girl in
the bathroom sink,
With bloodshot eyes
and a frail smile.
Like constellations
made mundane, how she was brave enough to be quiet.
Just to not hurt the
ones she loves the most,
Like an undone story.
Love, love her.
Love me. Like her
fine hair,
All tangled and
falling on her shoulder. Blinding the sun from her eyes.
Did she know I loved
her? Did someone tell her she should love herself?
Sipping coffee, in
her striped cardigan, at my table.
Her fingers were thin
and always moving,
She always had
something to write, to tell.
Every armour of mine
was stripped,
She touched me and I
knew there would be history,
Like art that cannot
be trapped in a museum.
She left me, in my
home.
And her bed lay empty
and I never waited on her.
Because I never
waited for her when I met her,
So why would I when
she has ripped herself apart from me in this world?
