I Like The Cuts - They Comfort

I Think It's Sort Of The Hypothetical Point Where Communism And Fascism Meet. They Love Tragedy, And They Love Surface Beauty. You Just Watch It Play Out Over And Over In The Media. It Was The English Edition Of Glamour Who Were Looking For Stories Of Iraqi War Widows, But Specified That They Had To Be Attractive.

He Was A Super Shiny Boy And I Liked The Shape Of Him. Under The Blanket. In The Shower. I Liked His Shadow On The Street And His Imprint On The Sofa. I Hated The Smell Of Hair Gel On His Head, But I Loved It On The Pillow. I Love The Smell Of Losing Someone.

No One Ever Loved You Like Him. And No One Ever Took It Away So Completely. But It's Here. Look Around.

What People Don't Understand When You've Already Been A Suicide And Pulled Through Is That After The Sadness Comes Fear: Where Is My Mind Going With This? I Don't Want To Die. I Do Not Want To Die. When You Don't Have So Much Control Over Your Own Thoughts, Over The Myriad Voices In Your Head, You Don't Know Where They Could Go.

It's Like He Has Emotional Amnesia... I Think You Have To Accept That The Person You Knew Isn't There At The Moment. I Was Witness To How Much He Loved You. I Have The Photos. This Isn't The Person We Knew. I Don't Recognize This Person. He's Shed His Skin." Her Heart Is Broken Too. She Has To Say The Thing That Will Give Me Back My Life. She Draws On Every Reserve. I See How Much It Hurts Her And It Hurts Me Too. I Came From Her Joy And Her Pain, I Lived In It And I Live In It Now.