You’re shaking he said
I am not
I replied
The truth unfound in my mouth
The smell of fresh cut grass
Is my undoing
Trauma has tiny little teeth
That leave you with a thousand
Bleeding wounds
I am foolish to think
I won’t bleed to death
And yet I do
I do
I will survive
All over again
I stare at my wrists
And know
I am better than I was
I look in my eyes and
See terror unrefined
But I dismiss it
The emptiness inside me
Is a little less and that’s enough
For now