Condescending

talk and lowly behavior,

trampling

over the already well worn paths of the cracks in my soul.

Splitting

a mismatched whole back into its original two halves.

Averting

glances from the bracelet of blood at my wrist

in the chilled

morning,

that which horrified even me,

standing

there on cold bathroom tile,

trying

not to peer into the frosted mirror

at the crimson

trickling

past my collar bone.

Remembering

my description of tears,

though I conveniently left out that they would be

falling

for you.

Empty shouts into darkened hallways,

it's three a.m. and the night is

withering

around me,

coasting

toward dawn.