I want to rip your soul apart and leave you wondering how the soft spoken girl with eyes of broken glass could cut you to pieces faster than the razor blade you've crawled to night after night
When the drunken screams became a lullaby, no, a symphony that crescendos to the painful fortissimo of flying beer bottles to your bedroom door. Crash after crash while your sheets dye red and your skin goes pale
and the phone keeps ringing but she won't pick up because all that's left of her are your dreams where she cradles you, holding you together like glue while your mind threatens to separate into thousands of pieces that slice through her like your words once did, and push her off that cliff like your words once did.
She won't pick up because last time she did you screamed until your throat ran raw and her cheeks ran black with the eyeliner she wore to impress you.
Like the hair black as ink cut short to show off the choker identical to the ones the girls wore as your eyes trailed after them and she internally screamed for your attention.
She's gone because you didn't notice her. Three days she sat at the bottom of that cliff hoping to leave you hanging like the chapter before the climax
But there was no climax, because three days later you texted her asking for an apology that she can't give because she's dead, you bastard.
You killed her and now who do you scream to to start the next chapter?
Who will push you off that cliff?
