"Paper Cut-out Doll"

My blood, still wet on the blade
Is more beautiful to me than you ever were.
The shimmer of red on silver
Will always calm me better than anything
Your lies could say,
And a natural painting on my palm
Will always fit better there
Than your hand ever did,
No matter how warm I thought it felt.
I see: This is what living like this does.
I told you I was happy:
"Whatever makes you happy," I said,
Because if you were happy,
You couldn't hurt yourself.
Well I am nothing now,
And I don't need your drugs to hurt.
I need mine own addiction
That won't remind me of you.
So this, dear, is what I found,
And I sleep easier with the scabs.

September, 2003