there are things
i keep buried
underneath my skin.
things claw their way
out of my throat,
tearing through my flesh,
sending scarlet drops
of blood
trickling down
my delicate neck,
but i choke it down
no matter
how painful.
the words,
no matter how
badly i wish,
can never escape
from my mouth.
i don't want people
to look at me
and see stains
on my skin
and think
that is who
i truly am.
it is not.
i made a mistake
one that,
if i had the chance,
i would undo it
in a heartbeat,
but i can't undo it,
instead i must
relive it.
everyday when i open
my tired eyes
i see the whole
event replaying before me
and i try squeezing
my eyes shut,
blocking out the
sight of skin,
but i can't.
i try covering
my eyes,
blocking out
the sound of
moans and cries,
but i can't.
that is the part
of the book
where i can't just
tear out the page
and make the event
disappear
no matter
how many
dandelions
and shooting stars
and wishing wells
and 11:11s
i wish on.