when i found you last week, you were pressing the lips
of a broken bottle to your face, tracing a line of red tears.
when i asked why you did it to yourself, you said
‘i like myself better this way.’
when i saw you in the hallway, you held the hand of another
whore, and he held the keys to your heart.
when i asked why you did this to yourself, you said
‘i
(
Read more... )