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Indelibility

My sestina...


I was born with perfect skin.
And it wasn't until I got my first cut
That I knew I could bleed.
The ground, where I fell, was bitterly cold.
I was young: I became mortal. My innocence--stolen.
It was then I learned this world would bite.

Why would he bite?
I was compliant, but he tore at my skin.
Harder and sloppier with each thrust my womb was stolen.
And even without a knife he found ways to cut
Me and leave me cold.
I just wanted to die--to bleed and bleed...

...and bleed.
The razor I dragged across arms did bite.
Small and stainless, the steel was always curious and cold.
Line after line my diary became my skin.
To cope and to survive, I had to cut
Because my sanity, my dignity, and my life had been stolen.

Kisses I took from him were coyly stolen.
I bit--hard and unexpectedly he began to bleed,
But I lapped his wound sweetly as a mother cares for a cut.
And because sex with him was always a battle, he used his words to bite.
They danced around his tongue and landed on my skin.
And yet while in the darkness it was pleasure, with the sun all I felt was cold.

She used a felt-tipped pen t o draw the pain. It was cold.
All the money in my pocket was stolen,
Even the fifty dollars to permanently ink my skin.
Over and over the gun pierced--all I did was bleed.
I wanted the word "strong" to cover the bite,
And the word "love" to cover the lines I cut.

I am older now and it is the little things that cut.
Beneath my clothes, my body is always cold.
I'll never know if it's life that tends to bite,
And sometimes I think that all my happiness was stolen
But there's no more life in me to bleed
All I have left is here written on my age spotted skin.

Never thought my first cut would be innocence stolen,
Nor every time I had a bite, I'd bleed.
Then again, I've learned this world is cold, and always leaves marks on skin.

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