It’s scars and bruises and paper cuts.
It’s writing at 2 AM because it’s never enough,
It’s my heart pounding at your foolish words,
I pull back, you pull me in. We lose control.
And I want to leave. Do you ever think about
just letting me go?
I keep writing. You don’t understand how painfully this can be.
But you fool, you just see it as a thing of beauty.
A lost soul, so broken, spitting poetry.
Did you ever think I was just hurting and these words
were what saved me?
Did you ever wonder how painful this could be?
— at least for me?/// l.a.m.