𝐬.

i’d love you to hate my guts
          if they weren’t already covered 
          in ulcers.....
          
          ulcers only a mother could love

i hope i die by 25. 

and I can hear blood, mine, hers. 
          i can hear her breathing and 
          something beyond that, i feel like 
          i can touch the depths of her existence,
          swallow her whole, have her live in 
          my stomach.

screaming the name of
          a foreigner's god, the
          purest expression of grief. 

because i still think back 
          to the first time you called 
          me with nothing to say. 

sick of losing soulmates.

And I'll stay up all night writing,
          just to stop myself
          from etching into my own skin