Scar Tissue

you were the cement block tied around my ankles and the blade on my wrists

you were the fresh air within the plastic bag around my head

you comforted me with your blanket of thorns

and the poison bled out of me when you tore it away



At least the bitterness you left me with tasted sweeter

than any of your gestures



She’s still holding the knife you slid inside me

and when she pulls it out of you

the future will smile at me through the mirror

and you’ll hear the echoes of your history repeating itself