Do you still carry my
messy scribbles on your heart?
I carry your fingerprint smudges
that like to drag my chest down.
Time moves fast
So why can’t I rip you off of me
like how you ripped me.
Your fingerprints keep dirtying me
and caressing me with false light.
I try to wash you out of me
but scrubbing only makes me bleed.
What did I do to deserve your marks
on me that like to rust
as my tears make their way
What did I do to deserve your
that makes me itch and scratch at
the scab you formed.
You always told me to stop biting my nails
and to stop picking at dead skin cells.
I guess you knew I was never going
to break that habit.
I try to rinse you out with soap and water
I dose my heart with bleach.
And even though it always stings,
I like that you’re still here.
I like that you’re something I can
constantly pick at.