I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.

You saw me smile
I hid my pain
You heard me laugh
The tears you never saw
You held me tight
You never knew i wanted to run
You watched me sleep
You never saw the nightmares
You heard me sing
The anger you never felt
You thought i was happy
How wrong you were
You never knew

I am on a diet
from sharp knives

I have been fasting
for about two months

Here is my clean
untouched wrists

But what if I got thirsty
for a drop of my blood?

What if I got hungry, and swallowed
all the knives in the kitchen drawer?

Anxiety wraps
itself around me,

like a coat that
doesn’t fit me

like a lover that
doesn’t love me

like a fire that
doesn’t warm me

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

he keeps asking
why
I don't write
about him

my dear,
my sweet darling,
it is because
you
do not cause heartache
and pain
like the others did

I do not know
how
to write
when I am in love