watch. and see. and think. and breath. Options

[xtransatlanticis...]

she watched the ink bleed across her skin, seeping into the minute cracks like tiny tiny tributaries engraved into pale flesh. she watched the letters dance and spread until they stopped. the 't' reminded her of jesus on the cross, she thought, the lines circling the top like jesus with his crown of thorns, jesus who sacrificed himself, and she traced the lines with a pencil, leaving grey-white scratches, almost pink but not really, on reddened irritated skin. she traced them again, and again, and then the bell rang and the flood of bodies and the latest fashions and the oldest textbooks began, sweeping the halls, and her wrist was red and welted with his name, traced in pencil and pen.


later that day, she passed by him, talking with his friends there's that cutter girl, i heard she tried to kill herself last week and she thought, 'i cut myself with graphite, not knives, i cut myself with my own heart' and she rolled down her sleeve and kept walking.




tell me what you think. i don't like the ending that much.