scars.

I stripped down to my swimming suit, not remembering till after the angry marks that lined my thighs. An angel on my left, an apology on my right. I saw them look at the marks. The old and the new. I saw them watch my back, those raised white stripes are a curious sight for you, I bet.

I sat talking with him on the couch. I laughed and smiled and leaned my head against my outstretched arm. I saw his eyes flicker from one to the next, and the next, and the next. I slowly pull my arm back into my lap.

The hardest question that I cannot find an answer for: "What happened there?" I would think after all these years I would have a solid answer, but no. Sometimes I just want to reply, "Life." That wouldn't satisfy their curiosity. What happened? 

I felt.

I loved.

I sinned.

I hurt.

I hesitated.

I wronged.

I cried.

I kissed.

I touched.

I prayed. 

I lived.

red.

Red. A warning color designed by God for man. Red means stop. Red means injury. Red means warning.

I have come to love red. Red is an addiction that drips from my arms into the ivory sink. It fades from its angry mark to a pale pink, to a reminder of red. A whisper.

Red caresses my skin like a urgent lover. Opening my skin to let out my love.

My love drips red.

self destruction.

A big black E marks the place where I lay alone at night. E for empty, which is what I've been for some time now. Longer than I originally thought. Right now is when I need saving the most, but the sad thing is I know no one is coming. No one is coming. And the saddest thing is the hope that hides under my skin, faint and sickly. Half dead and being swallowed by hate. Hate for Self. Why I decided to live in self destruction, I may never know, but here I am pulling down lights and peeling off skin and breathing underwater until I'm dragged down to the bottom with my hair floating silently like a rope. Waiting for someone to come, but no one will come. No one is coming.

worth.

This feeling is creeping in but its not cold like others. It's like a virus that spreads through my body. Mistakes are made and here I am sitting in my blood, the scrape scraping sound of flesh pulls my mind away. Punishment for my deeds. All worth is gone. Empty without a ray of sun. Grey clouds cover my horizon and I know that I deserve it.
Revisit the lacerations with the clear liquid that makes it catch on fire; 50 times the initial pain, because I deserve it. Hopes and dreams, soft touches I longed for, lips I wished to caress, those yearnings are gone, burned away in sin and blood.
Soften my heart and help me be worth it, because I am lacking in worth.

perfection.

Fingers climbing down my ribs like little stairs to perfection. Far from perfect, I pull in my stomach. I look better if I don't breathe. I put my hands on the front and back and push together. How do I get smaller? This cursed ribcage is in the way. Maybe if I broke that or took it out completely, yes. I'd be a little smaller then. I suck in my cheeks and pull the bags back from my lids. Much better. I have cheekbones now. If I stand just right, my legs don't look so bad, but maybe ill just keep running till they disappear. I'd look better then.