↳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

iv

you ask me what's wrong.
my heart heaves a heavy sigh
and the walls of my lungs peel away a little bit more.
the flowers behind my rib cage wilt,
their petals decaying like cigarette ash.
i'm just tired, i say.
the ash burns through my organs,
before settling in the pit of my stomach.
my lungs rattle and the walls collapse.
my heart shakily inhales and slowly exhales.
it whispers, i'm tired too.