Saturday-Night Blur

I sit here and jot my one last thought,
The blood pouring from my veins,  
And I’m getting my favorite shirt stained,
Down the road, not across the street; I think as spurts of my blood leak,
Beyond this page are stains of red,
The color I see when I let things get to my head,
And in my thoughts are crystal-clear images of her,
I hope she thinks of me as nothing but a Saturday-night blur.
I hope she forgets me.
As I lay here I think of all the questions that burdened on my mother, 
“It's a shame”
“He was so young”
“He was just like his brother.”  
I feel like I’m not going fast enough; so I grabbed the blade and tried to act tough,  With a rip and tug, more red begins to flood,
Onto the bathroom floor my body collapses, and my head hits sink, 
After that it hurts to think,  
Goodbye.
~Katie Wolffer

--above is an beautiful poem by a beautiful blonde with a beautiful voice. She was kind enough to draw the Jack Daniels bottle on my home screen, she's miserable most of the time and I think she's pretty damn cool. If you wanna read more of her work (its all really good) look her up at katieandtys.home.blog    

 --above is an beautiful poem by a beautiful blonde 
with a beautiful voice. She was kind enough to draw 
the Jack Daniels bottle on my home screen, 
she's miserable most of the time and I think she's pretty damn cool. 
If you wanna read more of her work (its all really good) look her up at katieandtys.home.blog