lets wake up to an
over dramatic
ringing in our ears.
fight to face oblivion.
you only see what your
eyes map out for you
like the tattoo placed
slightly below her
belly button.
you miss the way the
sky breaks tension
between ghosts and lovers
every night by 8:17.
i run from you, for you, to you.
to get back what you took.
(or what i gave)up
its scarred and torn, jaded even,
but none-the-less better out of
your deceiving hands
thationcehadacravingtoholdonto.
i bite to tear skin.
(she swallows regret;
dysfunctional.
her blood shot eyes
bleed crimson of their own
but to wipe them away
you'd first have to
stitch
this
remorse.)