After all these years the edges are smooth
flesh pocketed and fading from
dirty purple to pink
white, tight white and light
purple
when it’s cold and
soft skin becomes a map of my life
run your fingers down
and
each notch could speak
volumes, could tell you some
things from around the wounds
Like
that one scared me stiff
staining their carpet,
proof I wasn’t quick enough
to catch and tape up,
the evidence
eyes finally drying, heart falling down
from my throat calm again when flesh
split and throbbed on the outside,
finally
like reasons don’t matter when they all come from pain
too big to contain
I will remember forever now scabs ripping off
with my stockings,
an injection and numb from the shoulder
down
watching the sides get sewn together
high and shame faced, sad
smile from a doctor carefully
stitching, ripping my heart
wasting time on nothing
nothing,
nothing that pills couldn’t fix
that booze couldn’t flood
that drugs couldn’t lift
and open up a view from the top, from outside
for a while
that hands and kind words couldn’t hold and discard
let blow away
nothing real,
so full sometimes that a tidy line
filling with blood and aching outside (another to hide)
could save me from implosion, my pieces
colliding and then
brains to scrub off the walls. Lucky really
because each breath, each sweet scent , each
true smile is beautiful
now
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