"I love you."
Words can't touch me anymore.
My skin is coated in lies
Nothing penetrates.
My last hope is caught in my throat
And I can't swallow it,
Bumps and bruises are hidden behind
"I'm fine," "I'm just tired."
Words are branded into my skin.
They have left layers of scars
So thick there's no room left to carve -
So imprinted there's nothing left to root.
Nothing more to say to boot.
Prickly like a porcupine, consonants stick off of me,
Petruding like my long buried personality
Used to,
Like my personality used to.
Vowels form a new face of expressions
I was once able to pen for myself
But now
I can't.
I wear words instead of speak them;
I wear words like a coat of armor on top of my numb skin.
I swear words don't even touch me anymore.
There is no need to carry a shield ,
Instead you built for me a castle.
And I'm somewhere inside,
Untouched.