crafting paper planes

five

[TW: self harm]

she unravels at night.
her each layer trickles
before falling out on the
cold floor.
she leaves her each birthmark;
the one of her birth
the one her mother made,
to remember her existence
also the one that claims her her.
she snatches herself out,
out of each dripping emotion
still left to be felt;
it descends down like
honey mixed with vanilla
its each drop thick and slow yet,
the view, the smell, the taste longing to be felt.
she leaves out all her guards
to keep herself up.
she breaks down,
scratching away every little healing bruise
to let the uncovered vulnerability crawl to her at sleep.
she bleeds
she spits
she throws
her each dripping thought
of staying a little more in this weary world
and so she unravels at night
when the world sleeps and she peacefully leaves.