The first cut is the weakest
Not sure how mych pressure to apply
Curiosly watching the blood trickle
Watching if fall to the floor
Forming your lips into
The unfamiliar curves of satisfaction
forgetting about what happened
Focusing on the pain
Putting the knife back in the drawer
Between the socks, next to the scissors
Knowing it's okay to cry now
You let the tears fall on your lips
Stinging them as you look for your chapstick
Trying to think of a lie to tell them
Not ably to think of one now
You decide to sleep on it
And let the tears keep falling
as you watch the blood stain the sheets |