roxxee

It's all a testiment to the genes, these fragmented thoughts and wide-eyed innocence at the cost of normalcy. It must be that. It has to be that. I saw you in my yard in the darkness, picking the ugly weeds she called flowers. You raised your hand and I shivered when I thought of the way you used to make me rise from the bed, a sob escaping my lips, the blood from my mouth trickling down to make a heart-shaped stain.

Coming back is impossible.

Lilac-scented memories play in my head. I sat on my knees and rocked, hands to head, I cried for morphine.

"Make it stop."

Update!:
I got a new tattoo! Yay! I'll have one on the other side as well. Balance is my friend.