White lines mark my skin.
Reminding me of you and our awful 'friendship'.
I'm glad it's over, though reminders remain.
They changed, like me.
What was once smooth and flawless, turned red and ridged.
That all happened because of you.
I changed.
Anyone would, given the same situation.
Red sensitive marks turned pink and dry.
They either healed or were replaced by more red lines.
A never ending cycle.
But then it all stopped.
I stopped.
Red turned to pink, pink to white.
Now that's all that remains.
Physically I mean.
Mentally I'm still cut and bleeding out, waiting for it to all be over,
But still, it doesn't work like that.
So all that remains are white lines and blurred minds.
