Disorganized Thoughts

Your hand traces the outside of my jeans
“It’s getting better” you whisper into my ear
Then you gently kiss me
And I want to break in half
And fall into myself
Just days before you told me you could
Almost see the scars through
And you traced them just like today
The buzzing in my head is getting louder
I try and shake it
Why do you bring this up in such personal situations?
And then drop it any other time
Any time I’m willing to elaborate
Or extend my thoughts and beliefs
Even though the tears don’t come anymore
I think of how if I could cry
I’d be fighting them right now
I like my marks, but not when you notice them
Then I hate them and would love to tear them off me
Right off the various parts of my body
Shove them somewhere in my pocket
So you can no longer question me
And I can no longer remember how I really am