(Translation: Imperfect)


They are jagged scars on my arm,

Did you know?

Do you care?


I cried when I cut them into flesh,

Didn’t you flinch?

Didn’t you hear?


There was blood in the sink when I came out,

Did you see?

Did you wash it away?


I’m losing myself to pain, to agony,

Do you mourn?

Do you pray?


The blades are missing from all the razors,

Haven’t you wondered?

Haven’t you feared?


The next cut maybe fatal, maybe my last?

Don’t you worry?

Aren’t you scared?


Each scar is begging for a reaction,

Won’t you finally speak?

Won’t you look at me?


I wear short sleeves around you

Why won’t you react?

Why won’t you see?


The scars spell out a word,

Are you curious?

Would you like to know?


It’s a word you’ve always called me,

Before you just gave up on me,

And let the gap between us grow


The word echoes in my head,

As I cut,

As I bleed


It resounds in our silent house,

A silent reproach from you,

From me a desperate plea


Carved forever on my skin

So you’ll always remember

So I’ll never forget


That word that hangs over our heads

White lines spelling



About saharsalman

Aspiring poet. Spectator of life. Words of Whim.
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2 Responses to Imparfait

  1. Ahmer says:

    Beautiful and haunting at the same time.

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