written upon the thigh; safely covered by shorts & to be scrubbed off later
•••
H u f f
H u f f
H u f f
I pant quietly as I stand with my hands on hips, trying desperately to even out my breathing; but it's not the soccer that I'm exhausted from.
For the millionth time, I look down to my wrist where the haunting scar lies. And it is completely exposed right now; there are no long sleeves or jackets that nestle the scar in between its folds.
It's because of this stupid decision, that I made on a stupid night that I am so tired.
My eyes are drawn to it like an unexplainable magnet-
YOU ARE READING
note this down, please
Historia Corta----- "The truth is that I am weak, I am so so...
