I lather my self in sticky strawberries knowing it is the scent of my sweat they crave.

But being a good girl suites me and who am I to ruin their painting,

They so delicately stroked.

You blend my skin into my bones,

Washing me in oils of peach and rose.

Drowning in the aura of everyone,

You let the wind dry me.

But rain begins to fall,

Collecting the image you thought was...

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I am listening to you, all of you.

I can hear your cries for help.

I am so in tune to your screeches that I have forgotten the static of my own.

I will tell you goodnight and silent my whimpers in order to keep your mind at peace.

It is me, it is us.

We bleed the most because we would rather be killed than kill. 

I do not think it is possible for you to bury me like I bury me.

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My brain fell for you in trying to save my existence.

I asked, you answered, and never did you wonder who I was.

I fell for you so damn hard, a wave of depression takes over, affecting my vision.

Now I'm starting to make irrational decisions.

How stupid and silly it is to be in love with someone I have never met.

A fantasy I put together, a distorted version of you I strung together...

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