These scars are brush strokes of another girls despair. She spent Summer nights drawing lines between myself and her, The warmth on her back the only memory left in a cardboard box of misery; It reminded her she was alive, A reminder she longed to delete in a shrinking phonebook that breathed out numbers to balance her life. Lost and found in a pound of broken daydreams. Each time I catch someones stare I remember her fractured smile, The only tie I have left that I cannot cut.