this is the room
that is covered in white
((covering the black of her life))
where she stared out at the lights of the city
feeling lost&alone (not lonely, just alone)
where she felt safe
with her books and journals and music
where she meticulously perfected her makeup
morning after morning after morning
where she played her favorite albums on repeat
& painted watercolor sunrises on sleepy afternoons.
where she let him sleep.
where she fell in love,
& he broke her heart.
where she picked herself up.
where she read perks of being a wallflower
& it changed her life.
where she said no
but he didn't care.
where his hands pinned her body
to the white sheets
((& the white could never cover this.
...never))
where tears and blood and body
were a merely a blur
where she fought but
she never had a chance.
where she showered thirteen times in a row,
trying to wash it away
where she brushed her teeth in the morning
and filled her backpack with books for the day.
where she played that melancholy mixtape on repeat
& refused to let the sunlight through her window
where she couldn't cry.
where everything changed.
where she put on too much eyeliner
& she stared into the mirror,
that shiny silver blade
held delicately between her fingers
where she felt frustrated&lonely
(not alone, just lonely)
where she drew her pain into her skin
line after line after line
& where the tears still didn't come
((even if the blood did))
where she stopped being afraid
of others
& started fearing
herself.
where she got dressed in the morning
and studied for her quizzes and tests
where she stopped feeling
stopped crying
stopped writing
stopped painting
stopped talking
stopped loving
where she outlined Beyond Good & Evil
and smoked a bowl before bed
where she became an esotericist,
hiding her secrets
even from herself
where she is breaking
where she is becoming stronger
where the rest is silence.
this is the room
in which she lives.
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