track choice — Left Alone (feat. Chet Faker) by Flume

she’s just going to write
a few words
carve each of them
in her particularly picked places:
collarbone, jawline,
eyelid, sternum,
between ribs,

it smells like honeyed iron,
drips and slithers in threadings
of sorry, scarlet snakes,
all the letters snarl at her
swollen and furious and glaring:
cinders,
temptation,
candy,
crooked,
vanish,
but there aren’t enough,

she can still feel it like a persistent poison
that she only wants gone,
and the kitchen knives are too
big for her tiny fingers,
so she holds just one steady
between both hands,
drags,
tugs,
grinds,
along the arcing edges
until it’s beating turns to squirming
ventricles pleading to hold
themselves in place

and the certain, silver blade
makes such short work of them,
splits half a smile in her shallow face
the placid water of her eyes
when she takes it,
breathing out,
bleeding out,
leaves just a cool
wisping draft in that
gaping space
where she used to ache

Advertisements