i.
i tried to think of pain as a flower,
first it blossoms
and then
it wilts away.
but i won't let myself disappear
along with it,
i won't
give you that.
(it's not the agony that makes
me scream, it's the flavor).
ii.
and you whispered softly
"i'll rip your heart out and replace it
with a song,
it's christmas soon, and
we should celebrate".
you've always used my scars
as a calendar,
as a way to remind yourself
"today is tuesday
and i still exist".
iii.
(it's morning now because
i can see
the sunlight
through my eyelids
and imagine
a bright summer day,
the flowers are
beautiful,
so
damn
beautiful).






