Written 2/23/17
I ask you why
you do this to yourself.
You can't seem to give me
a straight answer.
I swear,
if you tell me
you deserve this,
I'm gonna scream.
I've never known you to do anything
worth this amount of pain.
I know that sometimes I forget
what it's like
to be on that side of things,
and I'm sorry
for not being so understanding
all the time,
but one day you'll see
what I mean
when I say,
"The blade will never cut deep enough
to make it better."
I know you don't believe me
when I say, "You're beautiful."
And when you carve the names
of your flaws into your skin,
I won't ever
look at you and think differently.
I don't condone masochistic behavior,
but you know
I don't love you any less for it.
I've been there too.
Once an addict,
always an addict.
But that doesn't mean I want it
for either of us.
So you don't have to answer.
I know sometimes
you don't even know why
you do it,
and that's both okay
and terrifying.
But your scars lace your body,
and my scars lace mine.
There is no going back,
no unlacing these ribbons
That bind us to our pasts.
But I finally found someone
who's ribbons match mine,
and even though we can't break free,
it doesn't mean
we have to be prisoners.
v.e.s.
YOU ARE READING
Cardboard Lungs
Poetry"Demons floating in my morning cereal." "Ink isn't the only thing bleeding tonight." A collection of my poetry. *I do not promote self harm or any other negative coping skills. My poetry is my outlet for preventing those actions in my own life, so I...
