ash in the dips of my collarbones, flame in the wineglass of my wrists

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.

The End

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