sometimes, quite out of the blue,
I crave the silver blade that I used
to paint in red on my skin
in the absence of feeling.
but now, when I do crave this,
it's not to draw the lines
but to draw the line;
the final line in my story.
//p.s
YOU ARE READING
Wandering & Wondering
PoetryRead it and relate or read it and understand better. ***TRIGGER WARNING*** Some poems may cause emotional instability. I DO NOT promote any kind of disorder or abuse.
