The boy brushes the icy old metal against his skin,
Like a girl would her hair.
He did this because of you.
You should have thought twice before you sent him that note.
He slides the blade deeper once more.
Now, he sits in a crimson pool on the floor.
Then, he realizes his problem had a simple solution.
He didn't have to slit his wrists.
But, it was too late.
YOU ARE READING
Sidewalk Talks
ПоэзияThis is a collection of poems that I've written. These are just the things a quiet girl is too afraid to say in the moment. Some of the pieces are just made up stories, but most of them are based on personal experiences.
