26 June 2019
There will come a day
when the scars
littered on my thighs
of words you used to call me
that i carved into my own flesh
so that i could bleed out my sorrow,
will be faded away
so that i may no longer trace them
with shaky, anxiety-bitten fingertips.
The memories, however,
of the way you looked
into my teary eyes with such hate
and the way your voice sounded
when you called me awful names
will forever remain,
etched into my memory
in permanent marker,
a reminder of the boy i used to love,
and the monster
that he became.
YOU ARE READING
scripturient
Poetrya collection of my poems to friends and family and self; a way for me to get my feelings out past rankings: #68 in domesticabuse #38 in poet copyright 2021 @peaaachpit
