the scabs heal
leaving behind faint pink marks
over time the pink fades
only saying hello in the shower
you’re proud
because you’ve been clean
for over a month

but out of the corner of your vision
a silver gleam catches your eye
your blade lies on your desk
whispering sweet nothings to you
gingerly, you pick up your razor
and tenderly ****** the edges
caressing the red tinted tip

first you tell yourself:
“i’ll only make a scratch”
which progresses to
“i’m fine as long as i don’t bleed”
to
“**** it”
as you slice yourself like bread
and warm blood drips down
alongside tears
for you’ve relapsed once again