It's 1 A.M.
my mind wanders,
building walls in my body
and shutting off my heart.
it's 2 A.M.
sewing my wounds closed,
i make even stitches
while smothering my silent screams.
it's 3 A.M.
i touch the glass,
stained with ruby ichor,
distorting the ruined mirror.
It's 4 A.M.
butterflies erupt in my stomach,
not as a sign of warmth,
but a cry of pain.
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YOU ARE READING
Forever June
Poetrythe ghost of you keeps me awake [editor's choice 2021 | poetry] [cover by @qixing]
