I tug at the dry skin on my lips with my teeth
especially when I am very very nervous
or worried, which means I do this a lot.
I do it until there is blood, sometimes,
and the skin is left skiny-smooth, raw and split,
and the taste of copper dances on my tongue.
I cut my ankle the other day, shaving my legs.
The bathtub floor swirled with red
and I watched my life running down the drain.
“That happens,” I sighed,
and tried to stop the bleeding with tiny pieces of tissue.
It seems i’m very very good at wasting blood
For three days now
whenever I blow my nose, there is blood.
This happens to me sometimes, and it is no surprise,
weather changing quickly as it has been,
but i still feel as though
i am bleeding to death inside myself.
And as i realize my blood must be searching for something more
must be craving more life than my body can offer
must be setting out on a journey
to find itself
i feel the dull familiar pain deep inside
that says i must be bleeding soon.