Your hands are tough.
They've broken bones, haven't they?
Your eyes are cold.
They didn't love you enough, did they?
Your words are sharp.
You learnt these from your father, didn't you?
Your knees are scraped.
You've been praying a lot lately, haven't you?
Your feet are bruised.
You've been trying to run away, haven't you?
Your skin is cold.
Nobody ever taught you how to be warm, did they?
Your arms are full of cuts.
Razors have been your only friends for a long time, haven't they?
You have a bit mark on your neck.
You've always liked your lovers a little violent, haven't you?
There is a tattoo on your collarbone.
You'll never be able to forget them, will you?
Your hair is falling.
You have something inside your head, don't you?
Your heart is broken.
And honey, it's killing you.
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Hearts
Poetry"You either get it down on paper or jump off a bridge." - Charles Bukowski Just snippets of stories I can't seem to get out of my head. All cover credit goes to the wonderful @mydearcc
