cc, my darling
you make me want to be better.
i don't know why or how,
i don't know a lot of things,
just that for some unfathomable reason,
the blood on my hands,
the ripped flesh of my stomach,
they bring to mind images of you.
late-night chat screens brighter than the blue they masquerade as,
burning bright and angry into my retinas
and suddenly i feel something like guilt
for breaking my clean streak
blood like soot sticking to my skin
and i wince when i try to peel off the bandaid
and for the first time in absolute ages,
i want to stop.