disconnected and transparent

I used to call them kitten licks, barely scratches, a whisper of hurt Just enough to feel the sting Just enough to quieten the storm. But the storm swelled And it carved its name into my skin with a brand new razor sharper than my own self-loathing Deeper, it demanded. Bigger, it urged. And I obeyed. Until I became a map of pain Purple lines like angry clouds A sky that never clears. Four years of this dance - - on again, off again, A sick waltz of shame I told myself, "just one more time," "just one more line" until I was a canvas of scars that could never fade into silence. The weather warms, and I hide Long sleeves, Long lies, "They're healed," I say, so I must be too, right? But healed is just a word like bandages covering wounds that pulse beneath I wish I had stayed with the kitten licks, The pencil sharpener scratches soft enough to forget Instead I chose the massacre, the brutal bite of blades that don't ask why, Just how deep.