that complicated, you see
billboards proclaiming that
blood-red lips validate you more than
pale ones, that year
and that he doesn't love you if
he doesn't respond to that note
you sent him that morning
that thrilling declaration of love you thought he was wanting
he doesn't love me anymore,
you say as you look in the mirror and cut yourself again
until the shreds of your skin
combine with your sticky silk and drip together,
such savage beauty.
it doesn't have to be understood
for you to love that you have rage inside you
from something as simple as
someone being silent.
ignore the billboards
and let them bend in the winds that sway,
and declare your pain
in other, destructive, beautiful ways.