Bleeding Ink

I've waited so long
to pull out my razor again,
that I can barely see my old scars any more
unless they shimmer in the light.

Blood becomes hypnotising
in the eyes of the broken hearted,
and people just assume it's for attention,
even though it remains a hidden secret from the world.
They don't realise it is for relief,
that it's not any different to the poison
they drink when they no longer want to feel.

Drawing on my arm is the only way
I learned how to survive this pain,
the only way I know how
to make love go away,
but as I pull out my razor
and hold it to my arm,
my bracelet charm reminds me
that I carry your heart on my wrist,
and slicing up my skin
would only be slicing into your heart.

And I know that I would fail
to have to try and hide
all the pain and scars from you,
so instead of my razor,
I am picking up my pen,
and tonight,
I am releasing the pain
by being honest with you,
using ink,
instead of my blood.

Saffie
24

5/11/15