not always a knife….

you think it's always the hurt of the skin, 

the breaking as the scarring your body like - like 

your - your own jack o’ lantern being carved 

it's not always a knife but its the pain of 

breaking yourself for the love that you want 

from someone else 

it's the cuts you feel when you scratch 

yourself from the pain your doing - 

disowning all who you thought you could trust 

 

not always the knife 

it's the reacting when they leave and never come back. 

it's the growing realization what you thought was - was not. 

the emotional exhaustion of breathing when you cannot 

when the air gets thick, and short - the breathes of which cannot be contained 

or contracted. 

the outer layer of a shell - that o’ used to be breakable 

is now retracted towards being a hard shell encapsulated of the reality of a tortious. 

 

it's sometimes a knife 

cutting through what was and what cannot be 

slicing the innocence and jarred passed by passing fluids through the body and 

leaving.

the cuts become hard as they attempt to heal through the skin you thought was binding 

towards your own self - but it is no longer.