Damned if I Die.

I assume you're writing a love note.
I thought so; I can see the red ink on your mouth.
That must mean something's wrong.
And your eyes are wet with what appears to be
Useless adjectives.

I am not bitter.
I am trying to give you honesty.
I hand it to you in a dripping cloth
So when you choose to see it
It glistens with dewy cushioning.

I don't want your neck to snap.
I want you to be able to hold your head up high,
Because I wont be able to talk for you.
You did this.
Your prints are biting up my sleeves,
As black as the ink that clots you.

Beautiful.
You see me, and I stand almost naked,
Wrapped in nothing covering my modesty,
Besides a simile that leaves me
As vulnerable as a certain reddening cotton.


My mind is not lost.
I left it all over your walls.