To Write Love On Her Arms.

July 28, 2011
She watches,
As the blood drips off her fingertips
Onto her perfect white sheets.

Her mom is the next room
Drinking away everything
Ignoring everything except for how low her bottle is getting.

He's fumbling in his throat
Trying to find "that" spot
Then flushes his shame down the toilet.

His father wakes up crying
As he realizes what he did to his wife
In his drunken stupor.

They go back the next day
To school, to work
Back to their perfect lives.

They're hiding in lies
the absolute perfect game;
Of Peek-a-boo.

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