broken bikes

of bruises

the bruises 

you leave on my skin

are nothing compared

to the bruises

you've left on my life

the scars

i carve into my wrists

are nothing compared

to the scars

you've carved into my heart

there is nothing

that you have not done;

you have loved and hated and broken and mended and broken again

and i am stuck in the constant circle

of leaving and coming back