your slashed wrists
dripping blood
a few months ago, into a metal
basin full of bathtoys and
bathing suits.

it's all red, a pool of blood,
your blood
filling a tiny meditarranean sea
and drowing yourself in it.

you show me the scars,
give me a smile.

I'm okay, you insist.
The blade wasn't rusty.

First uploaded poem in about a year. For a friend who cuts herself to relieve stress. School is not worth it.