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.