Friday, January 27, 2012

Ink

This ballpoint pen cuts
Deeper than a razor could,
Leaves black instead of
Red—just another
Shade of blood.

“...I promise”
If I could take it back
I would.

Lyrics and lines
Leave temporary scars
But still less so than
Scissors,
Never the same satisfaction
As that slow and
Simmering pull.

Head down,
Eyes down,

Sleeve rolled up to
Just above the elbow,
Hoping they’ll see,
Hoping they’ll ask
So he can shrug it off
With a laugh and
Nonchalance.

I’d take it back
If I could.
(I did.)

There was never
A choice, not for him,
Not when she begged
Crying and breathing,
Tears and a
Stuttering breath
Forced his tongue

And his hands
For a time,

Though he still
Keeps a pair on the desk.

Not when he reached
And they were there,
Inevitability because
He planned it.

Not when the words
In careful layers
(one side only)
Started to burn.

Not when he
Picked at his thumb
And fingers, peeling.

Not when he shouted
Whispering to himself.

Not when he broke it.

Head down,
Eyes down,
Stepping over all the
Cracks on the ground

Trying not to fall.

“I promise...”
With a jittery heart
One hand on a shoulder
Head up,
Eyes up, then down,
One hand brushing hers,
Followed by a moment’s
Breath of air—that
Sweet inevitable laughter.

He gave it back and
Disappeared.

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