shebreathes's Diaryland Diary

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marked

i lie to myself. i tell myself there was nothing there.

just sparks and air, i tell myself, just sparks and air.

but the blood dripping from my opened skin knows the difference.

this self inflicted pain is sometimes a tribute.

a tribute to this ghost who haunts me. he is not dead.

i wander streets which might as well be empty.

i hold on to the pain so hard my skin burns.

i cannot leave yet. i cannot go. i have to wait here.

i have to be here, just in case.

but it's just torture and i know it.

the pictures fade. my blood drains. i am cold.

my skin is marked where he touched me.

my voice echoes where it was heard.

and there is nothing here to console me.

there's nothing left but the pain.

12:37 am - September 03, 2004

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