You left tiny little paper cuts all along my arms.
so small and scattered, I almost didn’t feel it.
The stinging on my arms didn’t compare to the way your lips stung against mine.
those cuts started growing;
going deeper and deeper, hurting more.
when you saw that I was noticing the tiny little razor blade you held against my heart
you quickly moved to hide it, covered it with a band aid,
gave me a kiss and said
“it’ll be alright.”
before you ripped it off again and the stinging wouldn’t stop.
You left me bleeding and covered in tiny little scars.
the colors in the sky are what I found most comforting,
no longer the color of your eyes.
You were barely a thought on my mind.
I cleared out what was once your tiny little cubicle.
Tried to set it on fire with the sweatshirt I burned in my friends’ yard.
Sad to say it didn’t quite work.
Remember those tiny little moments that you made me feel happy?
Remember those times you made me feel low?
I remember those, too.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t still think about you.
If I said I didn’t have moments where I wanted to go back to those few isolated moments things were alright.
I’d also be lying if I said I still liked you at all.
Remember those tiny little paper cuts?
They’re gone now, barely a mark on my skin.
And now you’re off leaving another girl
Tiny little paper cuts all along her arms.
Poem about you-know-who. I like it a lot but something about March and June sounds/feels off. Anyways, this is what is right now, might change it later.