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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Death · #1759931
A poem about cutting
Your initials

In my arm

Remind me of you

And what you are



What you mean

To me and my soul

It’s all right there

You make me whole



Razors sharp

My wrists bleed crimson

I want you with me forever

We all have needs
© Copyright 2011 Nikanichole (demon_eyes09 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1759931-Cuts