I scrub my skin red and raw,
until I'm bleeding to escape your touch,
as if i could wash you away.A reminder that won't fade.
I'm lost,
haunted by shadows,
searching for the pieces
that you stole from me.
YOU ARE READING
The Things We Left Unsaid
PoetryThe actions of others, for the people they left behind.
raw
I scrub my skin red and raw,
until I'm bleeding to escape your touch,
as if i could wash you away.A reminder that won't fade.
I'm lost,
haunted by shadows,
searching for the pieces
that you stole from me.