crying in the rain

crying in the rain

She can teach you all the tricks. Instead of cutting up your flesh, pinch it so tight that it wells into blisters. Then you can blame it on bad skin. Or find yourself a partner full of hate. The kind who will put out their cigarettes on your back for using the f word. And swear, a lot. These things will help, she says, but you will start to feel things again after a while. She will teach you a more lasting fix: push a thumb tack into your breast before putting on your bra. It will stay there all day. But when the blissful pain gives way to the agonising numb she will know it’s time. She will visit everyone meaningful to her. Say goodbye, pray for their souls, and hers, and walk home crying in the rain.