the bathroom smells like blood
and when they open the door, 
you look into their eyes
as they’re crumbled on the floor. 
as you open your mouth
they put a hand to your face; 
exhaling reassurances to fill the empty space: 
‘this will be the last time,
i just had a hard day. 
some days i feel i’m at war
i swear i don’t hurt anymore.’

all of a sudden
they’re a million miles away.
through the back end of binoculars
you don’t know what to say because
you know you can’t do anything
to take away the pain. 
even though cuts fade to scars, 
sometimes the blood stains.