Breaking bottles bust open 
smashing this handle on the mantle 
Of this borded up fireplace 
taking the thickest, sharpest
hunk of shard glass 
and slicing through 
my plump pink fleshy thighs 
to spill the ruby red secrets 
from inside 
the drip and drool 
and pool
tie die my bed sheets and blankets 
it is not the pain from the slits 
that makes me cry
but the pain within I feel so deeply 
that I want to die