cut along the dotted line

i could have swore you said
that we were best friends but
(just like everything else you said)
it was a lie. each b r o k e n promise and lie
you said traced a line on my wrists –
a dotted line i never bothered to see until
i knew that you finally never cared.
i don't know what happened because i know that
i was just getting better but i think
i'm too afraid to admit
(though my therapist says i am doing a good job
as if i am a little girl who just needs comfort. well,
it's been four months and i don't know
where i'm going in my life).

i told myself that what i was doing is wrong
but those words i tell myself aren't
enough to make me stop. so i carefully
drew each and every dotted line down my wrists
(i'm telling you to cut along the line, sweetheart)
and finished it with an X to tell you where to stop.
my insides won't be pretty but i'm not even
gorgeous on the inside so why does it matter?

the sting of tears met my wrists and
burned like (the) acid (from my stomach).
but you can sew me back together
with the thread of tears that p o u r e d from my eyes.
i promise it won't hurt because i've felt worse.
pain which you could never feel but i took
it head on because it's nothing to me when
i hear your voice and see your face.
and everything you said added another line
until i found the will to stop –
to stop on my own just like
everything else i've been doing.

January 8, 2006