cut

she threatened to find a physical blade to end the unrelenting wound. frantic searching for an alternative; dig a nail from the fading wood and focus on its jagged point, the pain against her arm. that's how she makes me go away; focus on the pain, the creeping red line. the only time the world disappears.
she isn't always so miserable; sometimes smiling at the irony of the sorrow that's drowning her and the beauty that's breaking her heart, knowing that she cannot tell a soul of the desperate need to destroy beauty and to change everything smooth to painful frayed and ragged, make beautiful shreds of the skin imprisoning her.