Gods are delicate things. They can be easily consumed by a hint of science or a trace of common sense.

I'm going to learn how do this without him. I'm strong enough alone.

lies. all lies.

Her mouth is dry, so she takes another gurgling drink from an almost empty 2L of stale Coke and looks in the mirror. Week old make-up is streaked across a paling face, and dark circles surround eyes no longer bright and blue… but hollow, and as black as the hair that falls in greasy ribbons around her, sweat soaked and matted to the back of her neck and chest. Her white t-shirt was always too big, but now swallows her whole, layered with a dirty grey zip-up that hangs off one shoulder. Skeletal wrists are concealed in the sleeves, sliced up and down in short, deep gashes… the way that bleeds more. Flecks of white dust can still be traced along her cracked lips… as she slumps suddenly to the bathroom floor.

Hmmmm… must be almost time now…

She smiles at the empty bottle of prescription sedatives, as it falls out of her open hand and rolls across the thick white tiles to rest near a crumpled pile of paper. The truth was there, in those pages, and she found it. The truth… that she was a liar.

One who would do anything to feel numb again.

Anything…

if looks could*

ten word poem

You know,
I was thinking...
And then decided not to.