You killed me but I still leave flowers on your grave every Sunday for you.

Piercing the sky while drowning the sea was her only desire,

and she accomplished it.

She writes stories simply to create a reality she doesn’t feel she needs to escape.

I didn't know the baby alligator was alive when I flushed it down the toilet.

She then stirred the contents of the cup thoroughly.

"Death do us part," she said.

"Don't you want to fly?" the voice coaxed her.

She did.

She jumped.

She fell.

"It's a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

"But what if the problem is me?"

I remember you as you stood there, smiling as blood dripped from between your fingers.

My skin remembered her in the shower as that chipped nail scraped my back.

Clippers...

Unforgiving hands shaped her pliable heart. Casting stones, the rippling waters reflect her broken self-image.