I erased all my drawings
every
******* one.
line by line
they sliced my skin
and I tore into them
so they could do the same
to me

I died in the ink
the first time.
from the pen to the paper
my salty tears flowed

and I was tea-stained
from long nights of
this and this and
this
and ever the calmest
I never showed it

because
I could never be anybody’s best
not even my own
so it never mattered

and so I drew alone
and now
the second time.

they’re gone
because
I left
too

b.m.c.