what tomorrow brings.

iv. skin and bones.

iv. SKIN AND BONES.

there is a house built out of ruble. stain glass windows from the eyes she once perceived as beautiful, wooden floors made out of creaky bones of past lovers. no matter the condition, through rain and snow, through wicked vines and soft daisies, she built up the ashes into something beautiful. her insecurities are kept locked in a safe under her bed, her past selves hiding between hangers in the closet. she swallows empty shotgun shells that scream how not good enough she is from the weapon that she keeps in her dresser. she holds herself through the night on the empty white canvas of her sheets, becoming an artist with only tears when the sun greets her with nothing less than loneliness. it's when her heart begins to glow again, find another who finds her house just as beautiful as she does. it's when she invites them in, when voices grow louder, the floorboards are flooded, pots and pans rushing out the front door. they seem to like to strike fires at night, to leave her with ashes all over again. she somehow finds enough strength in the morning sunrise to rebuild what has been destroyed.

leaving her all alone in the house she built out of blood covered hands and heavy, flooded eyes.
leaving her all alone in the only house
she's ever been able to call home.