Views from the gutter

It’s been like this before.
The lets run away-feelings that always come with a peculiar need to cut off all my hair and skin my knees as a metaphor for growing into another self.
I’ve had nights with my mouth filled to the brim with words that fell too easy over glasses and crept over someone’s skin before I could stop them.
I’ve woken up like this before.
The eyes slightly open, heart beating out of my chest, nails digging trying to find an answer on the inside of my skin to why I can’t keep my mouth shut.
And where my mornings are filled with slow awakenings and acceptance of a life I never wanted, my nights are filled with gutter water in glasses of our own making.
I can see the stars from where I’m lying.
I always talk too much and too fast and I have nothing to say that’s new, I might as well rip my skin off in ribbons and tie them around the people I’ve claimed.
And listen, I didn’t mean to speak so rough or claim so much, it’s just that my veins are filled with nebulas and there is a universe inside my eyes no one can see.
And I know I don’t make sense, but for a second I felt my edges blur and I was less of a girl and more a miracle. 

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