I've always been flexible enough to wrap my arms
Around my body to reach my back
Because I knew it would always be difficult
To find someone to hold me in that way
And maybe that God I don't believe in knew
That too and made it worse
By handing me away on a silver platter
To the girl inside my skin who likes to play
With matches and bundles of dried up hair
Mistaken for straw.

Someone once asked me where it hurt
Like they would a small child with
A minor cut on their knee or a **** in their face
And they asked me when I sat on a bathroom
Floor and sobbed for a girl who got her hair
Burt off from getting too close to my
Soul which had too many broken wires.

I screamed at them and showed them
My ****** wrists, saying all the while
That my skin was the last thing
To send me falling to the floor of a dark red pain
That I still see at times when I close my eyes

I've never been one to say that I have a place
For a heart but it hurts back behind all of the
Anatomy that I never bothered to learn
In high school and it feels as if all the blood
From my wrists is filling up my lungs and is seeping
Into the cracks of my virtually invisible heart
And ink spews from my lips every time
I attempt to throw "I love you"s at the back
Of your receding head.