When you ignored me, I brushed my face.
When you touched me, I healed.
Waiting for you to answer, I scratched the surface.
When you didn't, I bled.
When we laughed together, I healed again.
When I heard, I gouged.
Letting myself hope, I sealed up again.
Hearing the last words, it ran down my face.
Living again, I'm starting to heal.
But when I remember, there's blood with the tears on my face.
And the saddest part, is this isn't a metaphor. It's the truth.
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