On nights like these
I think of you
and how you left me with
a paper cut heart.
Tiny slits across the most
vulnerable parts of the whole
and I almost bled out
with your back to me
until I remembered to apply pressure
in order to stop the bleeding.
You turned my hands into burning buildings
that set fire to everything I touch
and there are scars on my door knobs
from all the times I have left and
all the times I have decided to come back.
I am learning how to heal all the
wounds you opened on me.
I paint the walls of my body
with gentle touches.
I am learning how
to heal myself.