leaving you
was neither pain nor pleasure—
just something
that crawled into the marrow of my bones
and stayed there.
like Malibu and cranberry,
too sweet to be real.
like white cotton
soaked in blood.
like shattered glass
pressing into my wrists
but never cutting deep enough.
I just wanted to be accepted,
but I’m a mess—
too much mess for anyone to hold.
too many knives have turned my heart
into something murky,
something nobody wants to drink.
I taste like trash.
my life—
a knot too tangled to untie.
so I choose to disappear.
to run so far
that not even I
can find me.
good night, world.
it’s midnight.
