Loss

Cigarette smoke drifts between my bruised and broken lips, dissipating before my eyes like your love for me. I stare at the ground, tears mixing with the freezing rain, chilling me than making me numb.

I regret saying goodbye. I haven’t said a word since that night, my throat too sore from screaming at God in the dark, asking him why he made me this way.

I can’t help the way I act. The pills I pop are supposed to help, but they make the rain behind my eyes turn to thunder. They make me lose my sanity. I feel the crazy flowing through my veins, and I need to get it out.

I dig at my wrists with fingernails chewed to the nail bed. All it does is rub them raw, so I hide my wrists in the sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt that still vaguely smells like campfire smoke and late night stargazing.

My eyelids are heavy, trying to find the difference between reality and the things these voices are whispering to me, things so terrible I can not repeat.

I just want to sleep.