god it would be nice to be so ignorant
it'd be really nice to ask that
it would be and so
i'm a little envious.

and, yeah, it's my fault.
i should have foreseen this.
but, by god, use some common sense.
everyone's staring now.

at the spot where my wrists meet the table nightly,
where the bruises line up almost methodically
like the kids in the courtyard.

at the white traces on my forearms,
like maybe i scratched too hard and one nail got caught
like maybe i pick the sharpest nail and rake my skin

at the scabs where my cuticles should be
because i couldn't focus today
i couldn't breathe and that tiny pull and that trickle of blood
made my lungs restart

and i feel like i should thank you
and i'm truly glad you don't know what you're talking about
but until then, please keep your mouth shut,
before you cause any further damage.

Your actions left cuts on my heart.
But, like the cuts on my arms,
They faded away in the summer sun.
However, though the wounds have healed,
The memories last forever.