Encounter

Do I choose to be heartsick? With my leather bound books and cups of mint tea, heavy in my hands.
Instead of drowning quickly in a pool of desperation, I sink slowly in a sea of hot wax poured directly from my burnt up candles.
Inhaling vapors of tea leaves and honey so I may exhale this melodrama that I feed on.

When the sky is cloudy and my home is dark it i the perfect time to savour a bad mood. Blissfully wallowing in my sorrows and hoping to conjure up some sort of idea worth living for.

Upon inspection alone in my room, I am beautiful. Plain and sublime. I am white sheets and sunlight against dry skin.
I awake and I am pure.
But by the middle of this endless day I am used and sore and swollen to the point of pain. Torn from in the inside out by my own greedy hands. That is when I will take everything in sigh. Take so I can attempt to fix myself. Fix myself again.
How long until I give up?