you lay three violets on her grave. no more, no less.

one for memory.
one for love.
and one for luck.

it's getting dark and you're alone, watching the vibrant flowers shine against the dark marble grave. that all time low hoodie you stole from her wardrobe isn't keeping you warm; you know she loved that hoodie and you just took it and then she died... you unzip it, take it off, fold it. put it on the fresh dirt pile that she's sleeping under and sigh.

the stars watch you like God's eyes - but you don't believe anymore, do you? you grasp your hands, feel your nails dig into your palms, needing that zap of pain to feel like this isn't a dream. and it's not. under your feet, she's sleeping, the not best friend who stole and lied but had these beautiful blue eyes.

you sniffle. wrap your arms around yourself, all scars and pale skin and shame. those eyes feel like they're burning into you, judging, judging. yet, you don't want to leave.

but you can't think of why you're here, either.

she was just another girl playing that game of starve, binge, purge, die inside - and then just die. a few scars, too maybe. she didn't like the physical pain, just those awful mental game cycles that drive you insane. and now she's gone. she lost the game.

can you smell that? it smells like shame. and failure. you're a failure. she's a failure.

{when you were teetering on the edge of sanity, that first time, you said yes to the tall handsome man with a bag of that magic powder. you snorted 'til you couldn't see straight and she was there, giggling along with you. it was freedom in small granulated form and you loved it.

you followed the devil down to hell and were surprised when the gates closed and you couldn't get out.}

but you had fun - and that's what matters. grades don't matter when you're half-dead. never half alive because that sounds hopeful and you'll be a pessimist 'til the day you die. which might not be so far away, after all.

you're just a dead girl walking. waiting for the final call. facing constant disappointment in a life not worth living. {this is when you get that magic powder out and you forget how much of a failure you are for a few hours...}

happy endings only happen in the movies. you smile a bitter smile. look at the violets on her grave, just waiting to wilt. that's what we're all doing, right? waiting to die. has anyone really ever lived? ever gone to that final sleep and been ready to say goodnight to a beautiful life?

you want to stop on those flowers. but you don't. you've destroyed enough, haven't you? you destroyed that girl lying beneath your feet - she'd have never of touched that powder if you haven't, you know. so you just say goodbye and walk away.

maybe you imagine it, maybe you don't - but you hear her voice singing in the wind as you go.

you smile {maybe there is hope after all}