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Julia Low
Poems
May 2012
save a wrist, carve on paper.
I don’t want to talk
because I don’t want to feel;
I’d hate to convince you
that these feelings are real.
I promise I’m smiling,
a bright shining star;
so don’t you come over,
just stay where you are.
Ignore all the phone calls,
mixed with my endless pleas;
I swear that it’s nothing,
I just needed to bleed.
My veins have stayed shut,
so don’t raise the alarm;
I spill out onto paper,
to save wrists from harm.
Written by
Julia Low
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