Feelings. (#3)

I see her face, she holds out her hand, and I drop the stick of eyeliner. She puts it on, hands it back to me, and leaves. A minute later she comes back. She's just standing in the bathroom stall. I worry about what she's doing. Cutting, bleeding, crying, fleeing, from her heart breaking life, her pain, her memories will never fade. Every day she's with him, it seems like he's doing something I never could. He's making her happy.

(I know this one is really short, and the next one is shorter, sorry, I guess my brain couldn't function right. I actually think this is one I wrote the day before I OD'd.)