Friday 26 June 2015

Tragic Ink


She scratched and she clawed,
scarring her skin,
needing to erase the memory of him from the outside
just like she did within.
Tears ran down and joined streams of the water
that flowed from her head and onto her skin.
The water flowed eventually into the drain
but the ink of his name, on her skin, remained
'permanent' they'd said, and 'permanent' she thought they'd be
But she should have guessed he was 'temporary'.
She's scraping away at her skin, her nails piercing painfully
her sobs bounce off the bathroom walls
but no one, no one hears her silent calls,
calls to set her free from the mark
the mark she had committed to
one that haunts, come the dusk and dark.
Now he's got a hold on her skin, if not her heart within
and it scares her how she can't undo, what she once did on a whim.
He's gone and along with him he took her sanity.
she sits before her mirror, but no longer for vanity.
She sits staring at the dark ink in her reflection hung on the wall
crying softly and to herself, "Mirror, Mirror, who's the ugliest of them all?"

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