iii. razorblade

you are shattered echoes of myself,
sliced into window panes stained sanguine.

red ribbons to remember are stitched upon my wrists,
but tonight i have forgotten
the twelve reasons they gave me
to live, and why.

i want to watch my heartbeat spiral
slowly down the drain,
like my mother's antique ring.
to be lost forever in the stillness
of rusted pipes and soap-scum dreams.

the blue threads of my veins, slashed,
will gush copper fountains of youth
that i never wanted, but filled my pens with for years.

these blots of misery cannot be scrubbed
from the porcelain tiles of their pristine memories.
but let them try.

you offer me a glass-thorned happy ending
and make no promises of peace.
but to reveal how broken i've become
is all i've ever yearned for.

and this time, my skin will scream.

shards of a silver horizon, please,
unravel me at the seams.