Paper softly touching
the tips of your fingers
slices deeply.
Scissors firmly pressing
onto the paper
cuts it thoroughly.
You.
You're neither paper
nor a pair of sharp scissors.
You're human yet,
you carve into my soul,
and pierce my heart-
It's tearing me apart.
YOU ARE READING
What We Are
PoesíaFiguring out who you are to me and who I am to you shouldn't be that hard. --- What We Are: A Poetry Collection
