stained pearl necklace

The blade meets my skin,

Sharp, and cold.

Sketching on me a picture
Of the emptiness I feel inside.

With red ink, red lines, it slits and stings,

And blood will bead the string,

Like a stained pearl necklace.

Tight around my neck, yet a beautiful decoration-

I find comfort in the soreness and aching left behind.

If only I could connect the lines.

Weaving my way through the messes I've made-
I'm just trying to make things right.

Intersecting scars continue the maze

When my heart has reached a dead end.

I had a dream once...
I kept on going,
Deeper and everywhere.
And the blood flowed.
And it felt so good.

My whole body covered with those thin red lines,
Like prison bars or a rope.
Wrapped around me, clinging to me-
Trapping me inside myself,
Yet I am the one that drew them.
Maybe it's just a way of holding myself in
When all that I am only wants to get away.

Waiting there in the timid silence of my dream,
Flashing images of crimson.
Each drop bringing such satisfaction,
Saying, "This is right, this is good."
As my pictures brought forth life.
The bright red bursting forth,
Fresh and free,
Where once there was no color.
However, in dreams there are no consequences.
No one to see,
To misunderstand as they do in the real world.

And so I wake up, my skin unbroken.

But lingers the desire,
The warmth from the fire that blazes underneath my skin-
Longing to be cut.