Habits Die Hard
Author: Larina


forced casualty drawls from your bitten lips,
weaving with the savaged grass and patchworked sky.
sparkles of your best used shield fade from your eyes,
as vicious tugs on worn sleeves tear seams.
(habits die hard, you say to yourself)

hip bones are akin to jutting collarbones,
thinly veiled bones that hold no beauty in thine eye.
garish packets proffer what you live in search of,
salt working into broken, bloody skin on fingertips.
(habits die hard, you say to yourself)

------- Author's Notes -------

I do have just two notes:
This poem isn't about anorexia, just to clarify.
The lack of punctuation and capitals is deliberate. :)


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