starry eyes implode

she cannot recall all
the things she's
swallowed:
pretty pills, rancid
razor blades and
wasted words coat
her sorry throat

she can't count her
fingers, like she can't
count the days again--
it's zero to zero, in it
to spin it:
time is measured in
lengths of abandonment.

she comes home empty-
handed; defeated,
depleted, repeated:
"I gave up again
I gave up I gave it
away I gave up"
repeated like some
makeshift lullaby

and once more she
apologizes to a
broken window,
shattered, scattered,
just hoping to
know somewhere
better to go

and when she walks,
she holds hands
with the yellowed
skeleton of a
forgotten little girl--
on their tour of
the world. she
stops at the
edge and whispers
'there is a point of
no return' with
a guiding hand;
she sends her off
and realizes she's
only killed
herself