The scar on my thumb,
The one left from
That broken
Dragon figurine
Whose sharp edge
Nearly sliced off
My finger;
Ya know,
The demon face thing
I swore had
Bad karma
But slipped in
my pocket
And brought home
From the party anyway?
Well it stares
At me every night
With its menacing eyes
And taunting smile,
And reminds me
Of the night
That my fingerprint
Was changed,
As was
Our history.
Forbidden kisses
Under my sheets
Cause it won't matter
tomorrow, right?

Well I've been
picking at the scab
Every time
I think of you
and yet,
It's still healing.

Wish I could
Say the same
For my sanity.