there's this heart-shaped velvet jewellery box
i had from the one day, in fews, that i felt like myself.
an old lady at the art gallery sold me it.
of pretty wood, red like blood inside.
it wounded up being my ashtray.
i earned the hate i feel towards you.
me.
my best friend.
my best friends.
my lungs.
my jewellery box.
my sanity.
