so here i sit,
under boiling water
creating burns
across my
already damaged skin,
with a blade in hand
slicing through bruises
to turn them into
self-inflicted scars,
and with hope
that as blood
circles the drain
some of the memories will, too.
YOU ARE READING
Perian
PoesíaThe poems that I've always meant to share, and the poems I've always meant to write.
