my heart is on my sleeve
my scars are not just scars.
they are battle wounds, indifferent to victory or defeat.
they are my history through my perspective.
they are fading.
vague dark crisscrossing, shadows of veins.
ghosts of pain, of want, of fear, of loneliness. of revenge.
ghosts that aren't quite as dead as you'd like;
just like how graveyards are never quite as silent as you'd like,
all snapping branches and sighing winds.
if you look closely you'll see short, fine lines close together.
letters.
a word. a name.
she was the first person i stayed up all night with.
the first person i met whose head was like mine- slightly off balance with the rest of the world.
dizzy and brimming with stories. eyes wide open to a world both dark and blinding.
we spoke like poetry. soft confessions spilled beneath covers,
in the dark, glow casting shadows on our faces, hearts connected 3000 miles away,
"fuck the miles between us"
the curves of the
S are already gone.
(we spoke of a diamond boy and jetfuel stained nights)
A, slightly crooked, a shaking hand.
(she taught me it was possible to heal a heart)
jumbled together, RENA.
God how I loved that girl.
But sometimes, no matter how many words are exchanged, how open your heart is, it only takes a few words to shatter trust,What, do you want me to cry for you?
it hurt. i didn’t understand then. but i do now. all i do is taketaketake.
pity. one thing she wasn’t willing to give me. but now i’m thankful.
its been forever since that last cut.
or maybe its only been a few months.
its been nearly eight months since it meant anything, though.
now, whever the scissorsrazorknifeglass is heavy in my hand, its seems no matter how hard i press i never break the skin.
i cant find much wrong with cutting. i'm sorry if that makes me abnormal,
unhealthy,
unhinged.
i asked my friend, what seemed so wrong with it? its like a tattoo. a few seconds of pain, and your heart is on your sleeve.
she didnt know how to answer me.
we're only cutting ourselves open to stitch ourselves up.
i dont need you. i can do it on my own. its just nice to have a helping hand, to thread the needle and rest my knee against.
i don't want people hurting themselves, though.
it means they are unhappy.
i was so caught up in the belief that if i cut down deep enough,
id split open a vein of happiness, i'd bleed out smiling.
i want to be okay.
i want to be okay with being okay.
its her name cut into my arm but it symbolizes so much more.
its for anyone who has made my
heart ache
head quake
knees shake.
ive got names tattooed all over.
skin & heart
nerves & bones:
sarena amanda megan kayla lauren jen molly melina/
coy aaron jake/
pete ryan patrick william gerard max justini'm not saying that i'm giving up/
i'm just trying not to think as much as i used to
i still want to get back on track/
and i'll do whatever it takes/
even if it kills me
and i'd crush empires, kills stars for all of you.