Poems

The Last Time

The first time it happens I am 14,
and it takes me awhile to free the blades from my Mother's razor,
but oh God, was it worth it.
Because the moment I see scarlet I am freed from my thoughts,
and I know,
I am addicted.
-
The first time I try to take my life I am 16,
and I convince myself it was an accident.
The box cutter I stole from my Father's toolbox was just sharper than I thought.
And when I wake up and see that I have painted the bathroom floor with my demons,
I feel proud,
because I am finally good at something.
-
The first time I see her I am 19,
and when she smiles it makes my palms sweaty and cheeks rosy,
and I lie to seem more interesting than I am,
and I wonder if she thinks I'm weird for wearing long sleeves in the summer.
-
The first time I show her my scars I am 20,
and my face turns as red as the towels I use to clean up my sadness because I am ashamed.
And her face mirrors mine
because it is the most I have let her see of me and she thinks
I am beautiful.
-
The first time she kisses them I am 21,
and as her lips drop to my raised and worn skin,
my heart drops.
Because no one has ever looked at them with such care,
and I know,
I am addicted.
-
The last time it happens I am 22,
and my mind is clouded with misery,
and for a second I forget her.
As I tear into myself open for the first time in a year,
and try to wash my thoughts down the drain with the water that runs red off my skin,
I can feel the faint imprint of her soft lips,
and I know I've made a mistake.
-
Later when she clutches to my marks of madness,
and sheds more tears than I have ever shed blood,
I realize
I will never again spend hours taking apart a razor,
or steal blades from a toolbox.
Because on the days I can't silence the darkness all I need to remember is her,
my addiction.

Because when I make her smile,
when I make her happy
and she looks at me the way no one else does,
the only thoughts I have are of loving her and
I feel proud,
because I am finally good at something.

~cb