These hands are not mine,

so callused and cold.

When did they get so old?

Where did they get these scars?

Do you recall,

What I did on that day?

What I happened to say?

And we kinda held hands

And my fingers could dance

with a subconscious grace

twirling your needle safely away.

And in the silence

I heard metal music play.

And we went tense

Like two bombs about to detonate.

But no one else would see

Because I didn’t cry or scream

You alone saw me bleed.

Your self-destruction caused me pain.

I hoped you would feel the same

With one hand I cut the other

And what where the words I uttered?

I hate you?

I love you?

And I still do.

The cut was shallow and jagged

But formed a scar like a heart.

Forcing me to recall

A memory that’s not mine at all.