They ask me how I feel.
How could I explain this?
The cracks and sizzles beneath my skin when anyone touches me now.
The snapping of my guts being removed from me,
and the empty pit left within.
My skin covered in
layers and layers and layers
of don't look at me.
I'm ashamed.
How could I tell the reasons
why my tears threaten to run away from me,
but I pull them back in.
Holding onto them tight,
so no one knows.
As if the salty water could wash away my front.
How could I make them grasp the fact that everything personal I've had is gone.
Every secret spread across my face.
Every crack and scrape once covered by makeup,
now pulsing redder and hotter than before.
There is no words for how I feel.
There is no script of what to say.
There's only one time I get to feel this way.
And it is the most terrifying thing in the world.