i am still bleeding, can't
you see me?
and as my mind spills out
of my stomach, you watch and
tell me how pretty i look
when i am crying.

i fell for it. 
i told myself my pain
was beautiful if it was
for you. i hurt my mind and soul
for you, so how will you repay me?

my violence is a debt, and you owe 
me countless silver knives, each one
severing your calluses skin and drawing 
your golden blood, a wine for sinners like
you and me.

i am not the one at fault,
my dearest, please watch
your tone.

you made me sick with the bitter
taste on your tongue, but i am
young and heartbroken, and i
will kiss you again.

it never ends, this cycle of
hurting, our twisted minds competeing
for the prize of eachothers tears.

and when our words spill from
our stomachs, we'll think of
how pretty it was
to cry.