Poison: budlite
My stomachs in my throat and I'm about to throw up onto a squeaky clean porcelain bathroom floor.
The mirror mocks me,
teasing me with ratty blonde curls and tear streaked cheeks.
I barf glitter and years of regret onto tiles that echo your name into my ears, sneakily tearing my heart into pieces you can trap within fingertips.
Wiping my mouth ungracefully I pick myself up, glaring at the broken girl presented for me before I sneak out the tiny window into winter air.
Because people like me do not belong with someone like you.
s.d
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts Of An Alcoholic
Short StoryThe murmurings of an alcoholic in her expensive satin sheets of a boy she doesn't "love" {Various timed updates} /based off a true story/
