Twinkling drops of tears fill the pool of desperation,
And life's full color is tucked between pages of musty books.
Golden safety pins dig into once unbroken skin,
Faint stitches form,
Black blood is let.
Memories are painted,
Onto once white, ivory walls,
Permanent. Vivid. Real.
this is beautiful.
ReplyDeletethank you :).
ReplyDeleteno problem. i hate to sound cliche but i know exactly how you feel
ReplyDeletenah, you don't. its horrible feeling isn't it?
ReplyDeleteyeah, and it's hard being the only way i know how to cope. because i always end up running back to it
ReplyDeleteaw :/.
ReplyDeleteseems like once i started it became sorta like an addiction. i don't want to continue it, but i always seem to turn to it and rely on it now.