(Scars)
And she asks me why I'm uncomfortable
Like it's a question I can answer
How do I explain the blue cavities underneath my skin?
I rattle like a box of nearly empty candy
Bare underneath clothes
And loud — I feel exposed under her touch like a dying cell on a microscope lense
Screaming and sighing
I breathe my last blue breath
To wonder
(Up at no one)
If I'll ever be able to tell the truth
YOU ARE READING
In Which
PoetryA collection of poems about my experiences battling bipolar disorder, OCD, and addiction.
