Who to trust

Copyright, Lucinda

I wrote this while I was actually doing what it describes. I don’t want to include the name of the person it’s about.

I want to cut again
The knife is in my hand
No one would know
Except me, and no one cares

It’s not like I forgot why not
Because there are no reasons
The meanings were lost
The knife is all I have left

The blade is shiny
I know its sharp
I run my fingers along it
The coolness is refreshing

I just want to dig into my arm
To see if I feel it today
You didn’t care you never will
I don’t want attention I want blood

I cut so lightly
Showing my power over myself
I see no blood
Should I go deeper? Why not.

I feel the blade press against my skin
I see the slit where I slide it in
I carve at my arm but the knife is no good
But it won’t stop me

A perfect cross filled with perfect blood
Another mark more blood
Oh shit its your initials now
But you won’t feel guilt

I do though
I swore I wouldn’t do it again
Three and a half weeks
Ruined by one argument

I just betrayed myself
You betrayed me
I betrayed my own trust
So where do I turn?


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