Scabs

Not a slap

Not a hit

Not blunt force 

But a scraping 

A scratching

A draaagging out

A prolonged collection of moments of pain

That's how it starts.

Pain

I can feel the  a i r 

not just the wind, but the air itself

it stings

everything in it stings

I can feel the particles

a moment of soft peach

then polka dots of darker

and they blend into each other 

as my body works

It's very sensitive

the whole area

hurts

there's bruising 

it's obvious 

sometimes I'm   e m b a r r a s s e d  

I wear   l o n g   c l o t h e s

sometimes I flaunt it!

see who notices 

see if anyone cares

what if

w h a t   i f . . .

W  h  a  t     I  f  .  .  .

I ripped it off

i did

i did it

a rush

peach

polka dots

I watch the science

the surface tension

captures my attention 

I can't wait 

to rip it off

again

I rip it off again

it   h u r t s 

it wasn't ready

I have a new one

it hurts

at least there's more to play with… 

I'm bored  s o   e a s i l y

you think anyone will notice?

maybe.

let's find out how polka dotted I can be

before they notice

I take my prize 

and examine it each time

golden is my favorite. 

green or yellow

that means infection.

good that it might last longer,

but infections are bad, right?

I'm already infected

so why not?

I take what was onde inside of me,

that was once covering a hole 

on the outside of me

and I put it back inside

Sometimes there's a 

satisfying crunch

It's usually sticky

and good

But I always want more

Picking at it 

s l o w s   

              down 

                      the healing process

s i g n i f i c a n t l y

but

unfortunately

No matter how hard I try

I heal

Author's Note

Constructive feedback/criticism is very appreciated! :)