subtle.

No it isn't a week since any thing,
and i can't tie the wrist today,
and the cat on the back of my hand look just like misplaced veins.
And breath.
Second time round never happened for darlin',
he said 'Sugar, I should've came over'.
No one's ever good enough.
If you are still bones, then your hands are currently around my neck.

I tried to cut loose strands of hair, that hung out of line
but they wept sourly,
and the metal of the scissors began to ache in my hand.
Worse still,
the sun began to shoot rays through the bathroom window,
i felt my skin wretch as it thirstily drank down all that i had deprived it of,
since becoming one for the moon.
The hands on my neck loosened, but held
And my eyes suddenly shot a clearer view.
I delved the scissors into the mirror, and the strands leaped in fright,
I scraped my palm and fist across it's shattered surface,
and held my face to it's mirror's chest.
Somehow my eye's stayed open
And the mirror looked at my shattered self,
and judged upon words i had only yet thought.

God why did he come here,
i knew he was downstairs,
I heard his mug hit the table, i heard his keys scrape the counter.
Any more minutes, and he'd be at the door.
Any more hours, I'm sure he'd be demanding less.
At the kitchen table, my mug was too hot, but i clasped it with wide, subtle eyes.
At the door, the straps on my shoes just too tight
But he smiled at dull pain so much more than my fright.
So i turned to the window of the front door,
my reflection intact.
Marks on my skin, showed that of the bathroom,
before he could see what a mess I'd left on his tiles,
I whispered a few words, and left him a note.
Revealing to him,
That i should burn before choke.