a little bit of a resurrection
my life journal: cutmedown








as i lay me


the crack that echoed through the quiet house when your closed fist hit my jaw. the way the scarlet drops of blood splattered against the clean, white wall. you never did raise a hand to me, love; you might as well have slit my throat.

i lull myself to sleep every nite by humming an eery lullaby. you know, i could never be a pop princess; for my songs would make small children cry.

when we wake, the fresh linens will always be stained red, always.


written on 2003-07-08 at 2:09 p.m.

she / lost