Loneliness tastes like bleach, she burns my mouth.
And I drink of her still. Our lips fit together perfectly but our kiss is hollow, I know there’s no meaning to it but to leave would be the removal of a bone.
She whispers jealous cyanide into my blood until it boils, I hate her sometimes. Sometimes I’d rather die than see her again.
Other times I love her, I am completely safe in her presence. It’s just me!
I like my bones.














