darling i don't even know who i'm apologizing to anymore

trigger warning - self harm
jesus never thought the day would come when i had to mark poetry for anything other than depression. guess i should probably start putting that on all of my poems. christ. i think i had a few when i was just starting out here that implied self harm but i've really fallen pretty low, haven't i

and, see, the thing is - 

i get it. 

i get the appeal, 
thin soft skin of my wrists, 
open and so awfully vulnerable

but they're obvious. 
and ever since i've started going deeper, 
gouging red lines into my flesh
that bead with droplets of blood

they have to stay on my stomach, 
don't you see, they have to stay there. 
restricted to where nobody can find them 
unless i get careless, 
clawed into the bones of my hips and over the place right above
and maybe one day i will 

in a moment of weakness

cut along my wrists
but not today
and i wonder at the fact
that that's become a recurring motto

The End

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