You kiss my skin and whisper away the visiting pain
You cradle my visible holding breath
The oxygen in my body rushing out through my skin
How can I harbor such life in my body when my cells fight the wrong things?
These tears represent my life more than the crimson liquid
I still hold it over the bandage I will use to cover the scratch cam you have on your eyes
This blood is blood, you cannot stare and get a flood of words that explain
These scars and cuts are simply just that, you cannot glance and get a photographic story
You cannot glare at my mouth and get the exposition of memory
Even if you were to ask
I cannot explain the reason why the colour doesn't tell you what you need
It gives me my relief not other people's satisfaction
These are my scars not your pity
Igloos are cold
