he says i don't care anymore.
throw yourself on the frigid bathroom tile, bleed your tears of discomfort, heartache and deplore; they mean nothing. your meager body will fade fast, thats what you want right? to end it all? to cease the discomfort of being so severed? the faucet drips to the beat of every pain-stricken breath you take, mocking your will to exist. oh honey, the mirror is smeared with your loathing and malignancy; with hopes of someone to break the locks of that bathroom door and read it. the pleasing pink lipstick it is written in, or shall i say furiously scribbled in, recites what was illustrious. one sentence can make or break you; one word can batter and scatter that already discrete heart of yours, but those infamous three words, yea you know the three words everyone hopes to swap with their darling, the three words that are supposed to make you feel magical and marvelous, as if you are floating away in a sea of eternal bliss; yea those three words, they can crucify everything you are; drown you in a sea of forgetting and regret (which just so happen to be your own tears). bless you with tears because you have absolutely nothing left, nothing to hold on to. your bony fingers fondle the cold tile and you secretly find warmth in it. lying there you realize that the smeared mirror is sad but true, but you see a beautiful silhouette concealed behind the hurtful utterances written in front of your very eyes. disgust encircles you, smashing your reflections with a fist of resentment. is it over? no it will never be over. but you, tormented and beautiful; will be ok.