The night you held my bleeding wrist and wiped my tears
was the first time I felt the need to heal.
You looked me in the eyes
as you sliced your own wrist to match mine.
I screamed
and I cried
I just needed you to stop.
Seeing you in that pain made me see what I had caused.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Someone. (I Hope You Read This.)
Poesiasometimes a child becomes too damaged to fix.