deepundergroundpoetry.com

three months later

I hope you are not waiting to hear the words I miss you because eventually you’ll realize your bones have been collecting dust

I miss you
is an invitation for winter winds to whistle between my ribs again
I miss you
is more toxic than “goodbye” ever was
I miss you
is suicide

I am giving you my scissors
and trusting you to cut out my tongue
before
I miss you
comes around and fucks things up


again
Written by dearalexandra
Published
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