Bleed Me Empty, Quietly
Bathroom tiles cold against her spine,
two pink lines ended the lie.
She folds the silence into a scream,
and drinks the pills she can’t redeem.
He’s long gone, blocked and clear,
said, “You knew the risk” in a text-shaped sneer.
She told no one, not her mom,
just clenched her jaw and played along.
The cramps come slow, like thunder in stealth–
she hugs the toilet and blames herself.
A life unlived, a love unloved,
no child, no peace, no hand, no glove.
Bleed me empty, quietly–
no protest signs, just gravity.
She won’t forget, but she’ll survive–
this choice was cruel, but kept her alive.
She doesn’t regret it.
She just mourns what it cost.