Scar Tissue

Without the means to make amends,

It sprawls.

Your soul is plain

And mine

Is not colorful enough for the both of us.

Out, from within,

Extraordinary falsehoods, blur

My hand and your hand

The skin,

Similar,

And seething, tense,

Where the blood stops

And catches scars.

I don’t think love hurts,

Like this.

Author's Note

I wrote this about cutting.

Reviews

[Alex Avery]

Cutting is a very touchy subject, glad someone is willing breach it

[Surrealist]

Thanks, it helps me to write about dark stuff rather than experience it i guess.