she only comes in shades of black or neon.
her eager matchstick fingers strike against skin
and the hitches in your breath. she flickers. she wants.

& she’s hoping for a riot or the sound of a gun
-- something’s gotta break the bell jar that begged:
drink me, my love. we’re all drowning anyway.
we all run the circles and the door is always too small.

tattoos, she said, come in two flavors: ink and scars.
there’s blood either way. and always a story.
drink me. read me. want me.

oh, she wants. to be suicide royalty and a permanent
sort of ache in his heart. her heart. (they’re gone.)

so far she can only break her own.

author's note: inspiration was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, dialogue in the bookstore.