Breadcrumbs:

Alone

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Sometimes I sit around and see the many things that remind me of you. I love you. And I know you love me, but that doesn't stop me from hurting when I am reminded I can't always be with you.

I hurt and I cry and I look down at my chest and I see just my filthy, dirty, worthless, spoiled, selfish heart lying just below my alabaster skin, beating even though it's not really doing anything for the world and is broken into a million tiny glass shards.

I reach for my shiny blade. It makes the sun dance on my walls when it hits the silver of the blade. I smile at it and wonder what it could do to my 'beautiful' skin.

Maybe I'll cut out the fucking filthy bleeding thing below my skin.

No one needs it.

Not even me.

I draw a picture on my skin. A picture of pain and broken hearts. The red ink of the picture wells up and spills out, dripping down my chest onto my stomach and finally to the floor.

When I'm finished I have a beautiful picture, but the picture isn't half as pretty because you aren't here to see it.

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The Author

Creativity - Other Written Work published by 2 years ago ()

Comments

jakdeath

Alone

2 years () (Permalink)

Wonderfull.Thankyou..

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