Shards slice the insides of my cheeks. My mouth spits out the shards, along with something unexpected— Secrets of others, wrapped in pink lace that stains red from the devil knows what. Boxes filled with unwanted memories of the same person whispering the same haunting phrase: ***"I don’t care if that's what you feel…"*** The words were boulders, tumbling toward my heart, anger making home on every carving. My chest was heavy, even without the heart to spread blood. The pink lace wails in my hands, whispering fears into my veins. The words make my ears bleed from the inside out, snaking along my skin. My head throbs as the shards pierce my skin, words that feel like poison seeping through the crevices of my bones. The shards settle in my arm, spreading poison wrapped in lace dressed up as guilt. Even my pulse is shallow now, sick of only breathing for others, never for itself. *How pathetic.* @jayfeather