“last night i took a sleeping pill to keep tenderness out of the warzone. i want to text you: this is how you lose her. the sixth time you call me pretty, i start to dissociate. i cannot differ between the water and the body. in another timeline, the universe is a dull pain in my lower back and the throbbing between my legs artifical. this is how you lose her spelled in neon lights on the insides of my thighs but no one comes looking. now i have shrapnels for fake lashes from where i tried to contain myself: the glass woman. the un-becoming. i unravel the stitches. i turn back to messes: three times folded like a paper mouth to hide the gun-shot wounds. you wouldn’t know, but this is how i go.”
(via dosenherz)