• my_purple_journal 14w

    The night falls in around me
    like a blanket, like a tomb.
    It brings with it the comfort
    of a switchblade, of a womb.

    I contemplate sincerity.
    I contemplate, so still.
    I contemplate until I burn
    from my mind's relentless chill.

    I long so for an off switch
    that can cast my heart aside,
    and the only feel that lingers
    is my careless, foolish pride.

    But I was born without, you see,
    such a handy little switch,
    so it is all consuming to
    become a heartless bitch.

    (1/2) Jennifer Rae | 2016