For now her chest is nothing more than an empty home waiting for me to return. She saved my life, and I made it look like a suicide. Tonight I'm the skeleton buried deep in her closet, painting dead roses on the nerves of her neck.
Standing at the base of the fire escape shaking my head. The last few weeks were already covered in ash like a sunken ship that nobody cared to search for. I've never used a heart like I've been using hers. I feel inside out. The reverse side of karma. A devil with a halo.
Forgive me for forever slicing at barely healed wounds. I'm only happy when I'm hurting. I can't stand who I am right now. Dripping thoughts and emotion across this keyboard at her expense. Starting fights with her just so the pen can bleed. So afraid to be alone... a gutted match searching for his passport.
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