Crimson Scars (A Poem)

Crimson Scars (A Poem)

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Zoë Tomato By ZoTomato Updated Jan 19, 2015

Crimson scars,staining my thighs and wrists like red wine spilled on a plush white carpet. Ivory skin broken red into perfect red lines that remind you of a freshly mowed lawn, romanticized on a summer day. 

Crumpled suicide notes liter the floor like grains of sand on a beach, a bottle of sleeping pills sits patiently taped behind the bed frame like a child playing hide and seek. 

I sit behind a mirror, watching  behind the thin glass, pressing fingerprints too frail to find. 

I am a side effect of the pills I take, I shake in my veins from my wrists to my knee caps, pulsing from my womb to my fingertips  and it controls  every move I make.

I am the pile of wrinkled sheets sprawled out on the bed, my heart bleeds out as faded tear drops.

The same tear drops that left splattered paint marks on your favorite white T-shirt, the shirt you wore night that you left me.

 The night that you left me, left me faded and jaded and so small. I have never been this small before but now I know...

  • selfharm
  • slam

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