I swallowed my guilt like broken glassand smiled through the blood. Each night I claw back into the same wound, feeding the dark what it already owns.No light slips through these ribs. Just the slow grind of teeth on regret—mistakes that still breathe, stains that wear my face in the mirror.
I tell myself tomorrow will be different. The dark laughs, finishes the sentence,and swallows me whole. Morning comes anyway, a thin blade of false mercy.I rinse the rust from my tongue, dress the fresh cuts in clean lies,and step out wearing yesterday’s skin.
The cycle doesn’t break.It sharpens.
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