she sat in front of the window, watching raindrops slide down the panes
almost as agonized as the tears slipping down her own cheeks,
the muffled sobs constricting her chest,
ribcage an ever-tightening prison for her bleeding heart
the truth is that that same natural trap,
it's a brace to hold together the shattering heart.
her dirty hands raised,
clenched at the soaked fabric of her once-grey shirt,
scrabbling uselessly, blunt fingernails digging through
thin fabric to scrape the skin of her collarbone, trying
to rip out her heart
(at least try to hasten the slow murder,
at least try to staunch the steadily dripping wound)
failed, the hands, dried mud clings to the insides of her lifelines
an everlasting taunt reminding her of her broken past
and her only love, he pushed her down and gave her
the black eye encircling one pained iris
she smiled sadly, "it hurts."
"why?"

"good," he sneers, "it was meant to,"
and throws mud in her face,
pushes her down into a dirty puddle and his lips
they twist into a disgusted frown
"fuck you, whore."
she crawled home, hated and alone,
passing cars sending up indifferent mud puddles,
skies weeping misery onto her shoulders.

worthless, he had spat in her face,
you worthless, lying skank.
what did she do wrong?
she didn't know.

rumors and lies, they cut deeper than the knife
she now clenched in her dirty fist,
they'd know regret soon enough.

she set back out into the rainy, overcast world that
cared for no bleeding soul.