;
sharp blade, smooth skin.
one swift movement could soothe all her worries and make her forget her sins.
bloody blade, pierced skin.
pure bliss, lots of pain;
tears and curses, addiction remains.
an oath to never her mistake repeat.
detergent-soaked cloths, disinfectants,
bandages and bleach.
clean, clean, clean.
but no one's ever home.
no one will ever know.
it didn't hurt that much, you know and the
pain was worth the bliss. the knife and its alluring glint.
too late. temptation has her beat.
her skin soon resembling the lines on her skirt,
the pleats.
YOU ARE READING
SEMICOLONS
Poetry; in which she dies a thousand deaths without flatlining. - all rights reserved.
