you are a blade
who inevitably hurts those who dare grace you with even the lightest touch,
and yet you are selfish: for you continue to thrust yourself into our skins as if we are made of the strongest steel.
but we are simply made of soft flesh
and hearts that bleed and soft voices that scream to be heard.
and most importantly, you forget
that you are not made of metal
but a body that bleeds and cries and screams
and i hate to admit that just maybe you love it as much as i did back then.
but that means you must hate it too, which is why i let myself bleed for so long.
YOU ARE READING
efflorescence
Poetry- where my withering thoughts bloom [TW] don't judge me most of these are very old
