Gashes.

Pale skin blossoms

plum wine,

as she shoves off, her

pelagic musings

yet another time.

Sickening slide

of the blade

stretch and slice,

Oozing an ocean of red

O’er her wrists and thighs.

Lesioned lips

turn winter pale,

The deeper , the better

She relishes in pain.

Tears spill

down serene,

Trickle away

the unseen.

Tired of swimming

through these waves,

she doesn’t wanna fight

But give up and drown her fears away.

As the

Blood dripped

down her veins

she fade,

into an echo

lost in space.

-Vaishnavi Parihar

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