there's something about seeing
the faded sharpie on my arms
because it means i've scrubbed it all away
along with the memories of flowers and thorns

there's something about knowing
that you haven't been okay
that makes me fill up pages with too many words
and drives me completely insane

but i'll scrub you away like sharpie
because what should be permanent, never is
and soon enough you'll fade away
much like the words on my skin