out of words
these poems
dont save themselves from my veins
they wait there
waiting for the next scratch
cut
broken
then the words fall
like leaves in boston autumn
make poems
make me beautiful
color my skin
made up with similes
metaphors
romanticize heartache
shattering skin
tomorrow
give me the heartache of bright blue eye shadow
mascara
nothing it water proof
nothing holds its beautify when the tears finally come
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