We sit there and breath in and out, in and out, in and out, hard and deep. I feel my lip start to quiver, but I grit my teeth, say no, no, no, no, will not, will not, will not.
Which is when I taste the blood in my mouth.
Feel it thick over my teeth, the sweet rusty taste of blood that I swallow and taste pure all over my outh and throat. Warm, as it bleeds out and drips onto my shirt. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, the blood that taste so bitter not even a cold glass of water can ever wash it away.
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"Friends don't let friends eat friends"
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I Make My Hearts With Wings Because They Have A Tendancy To Fly Away.
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