Tally Marks

A poem of a person who self-harms, and one who wishes to fix her.

You have tally marks

lined down your wrist;

as permanent as a tattoo. 

Each stroke said to be

“the last”. And while 

you were asleep, dreaming 

to never wake up, I

kissed each slash on both

damned wrists, hoping for 

my kiss to fall into your 

bloodstream, and fill your 

body with love that you 

seem to have lost along the

way. 

Reviews

[Zippora]

This is simply wonderful. Thank you for sharing.

[Zachary_James]

Just beautiful, i adored this.